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"  I   NEVER  THOUGHT  I'D  TAKE  TO   RAISIN*  CHILDREN   AT  MY  TIME   OF   LIFE." 
Drusilla   With  a  Million.  P"0e  133. 


DRUSILLA  WITH 
A  MILLION 

By  ELIZABETH   COOPER 


With  Frontispiece 


A.   L.   BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  Arrangements  with  FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANT 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation 
into  foreign  languages. 


DRUSILLA  WITH 
A  MILLION 


CHAPTER  I 

DRUSILLA  DOANE,  O  Drusilla  Doane !" 
came  waveringly  around  the  corner;  and 
the  quavering  voice  was  followed  by  a  little  old 
woman  who  peered  at  the  line  of  old  ladies  sit 
ting  in  the  sun.  "Is  Drusilla  Doane  here?"  she 
inquired,  darting  quick  birdlike  glances  from  her 
old  eyes  at  the  curious  faces  that  looked  up  at  her 
approach. 

A  little  white-haired  woman  stopped  the  darn 
ing  of  the  tablecloth  in  her  hands  and  looked  up 
expectantly. 

"Yes,  I'm  here,  Barbara.  What  do  you  want 
of  me?" 

"There's  two  men  in  the  parlor  to  see  you,  an* 
Mis'  Smith  told  me  to  tell  you  to  hurry.  I  been 
lookin'  for  you  everywhere." 

Drusilla  Doane  let  the  cloth  fall  into  her  lap, 
and  all  the  other  women  stopped  their  work  to 


2          DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

stare  at  the  announcer  of  such  wonderful  news. 

"To  see  me,  are  you  sure?" 

"Yes,  they  asked  to  see  Miss  Drusilla  Doane. 
You're  the  only  one  of  that  name  here,  ain't 
you?" 

Drusilla  folded  her  work  and  placed  it  in  the 
basket  of  linen  by  the  side  of  her  chair. 

"Yes,  I  guess  it  must  mean  me,"  she  said,  and 
rose  to  go. 

As  she  passed  around  the  house  all  the  old 
ladies  moved  as  if  by  a  common  impulse. 

"Come  right  here,  Barbara  Field,  and  tell  us 
all  about  it.  Who  are  the  men?" 

"What  did  they  look  like?"  questioned  another. 

"Take  this  chair  and  tell  us  all  about  it,"  said 
Miss  Harris,  the  youngest  of  the  ladies;  and  a 
place  was  made  in  their  midst  and  the  line  closed 
around  her. 

"Put  your  teeth  in,  so's  we  can  understand 

you." 

Barbara  groped  around  in  the  pocket  of  her 
apron;  then,  holding  the  end  of  the  apron  up  to 
her  face,  adroitly  slipped  her  teeth  into  her 
mouth,  and  sat  down  to  become  for  once  the  cen 
ter  of  interest  to  her  little  world. 

"Now  tell  us  all  about  it — what  you  wait 
ing  for?"  said  one  of  the  ladies  impatiently. 

"What'll    I    tell?"    said    Barbara.     "I    was 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION          3 

passin'  by  the  door  and  Mis'  Smith  called  me  in 
and  said,  'Barbara,  will  you  find  Drusilla  Doane 
and  send  her  here?  Tell  her  that  there  are  two 
gentlemen  who  wish  to  see  her.' ' 

"Two  men — two  men  to  see  Drusilla  Doane!" 
cackled  one  old  lady.  "She  ain't  never  had  one 
to  call  to  see  her  before,  as  I  knows  on." 

"No,"  chimed  in  another.  "She's  been  here 
five  years  and  there  ain't  a  livin'  soul  before 
asked  to  see  Drusilla  Doane.  What'd  they  look 
like,  Barbara?" 

"One  was  tall  and  thin  and  sour-lookin' — 
looked  like  a  director  of  a  institution;  and  the 
other  was  short  and  fat  and  pussy  and  was 
dressed  real  elegant.  One  had  a  silk  hat  and  he 
wore  one  gray  glove  and  carried  another  in  his 
hand  with  a  cane.  That  was  the  skinny  one. 
The  pussy  one  wore  a  gray  vest — that's  all  I  had 
time  to  see — and  his  eyes  kind  o'  twinkled  at  me." 

"Did  you  hear  what  they  wanted  Drusilla  for?" 

"No,  I  didn't  hear  nothin'." 

"You  mean  you  didn't  hear  anything,  Bar 
bara,"  interrupted  a  querulous,  refined  voice. 
"Your  grammar  is  dreadful!" 

"I  don't  mean  no  such  thing.  I  mean  I  didn't 
hear  nothin',  and  nothin'  it  is."  And  Barbara's 
meek,  faded  old  eyes  glared  at  the  little  old  lady 
in  the  corner,  if  meek,  faded  blue  eyes  could  glare. 


4          DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Never  mind  her  grammar,  Lodema  Ann. 
Why  didn't  you  hear  what  they  said?  What 
was  you  doin'  in  the  hall  if  you  wasn't  listenin'  ?" 

"I  told  you  I  was  just  passin'  through  and  Mis' 
Smith  called  me  in." 

"Don't  you  know  nothin'  about  it — nothin'!" 

"Nothin'.  I've  told  you  all  I  know.  Can  I 
take  my  teeth  out  now?" 

"No,  Barbara;  keep  your  teeth  in  till  we've 
finished  with  you.  A  person  can't  understand 
a  word  you  say  with  your  teeth  out,  you  gum  your 
•words  so." 

"But  they  hurt  me ;  they  don't  fit.  I  ain't  had 
a  new  pair  for  twenty  years  and  my  jaws' ve 
shrunk." 

"Well,  keep  'em  in  fer  a  while.  They  won't 
shrink  any  more  fer  a  minit.  Did  they  look  like 
relations?" 

"Relations!"  said  a  big,  placid-looking  woman 
who  was  knitting  quietly.  "Drusilla  ain't  got 
no  relations.  She  ain't  never  had  none." 

"She  must  have  had  some  at  one  time.  Every 
body  has  relations — although  some  people  I 
know,  had  rather  be  without  them  than  recog 
nize  the  kind  they  got."  The  sour  voiced  old 
lady  directed  her  tones  toward  the  seat  next  to 
her. 

"If  you're  a  meanin'  me,  Caroline,  I  want  to 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION  5 

tell  you  my  relations  is  just  as  good  as  your'n, 
though  we  don't  throw  'em  down  everybody's 
throat  as  some  folks  I  know." 

"No,"  said  another;  "Drusilla  has  no  family; 
she  told  me  so  herself.  One  day  I  was  telling  her 
about  my  family,  about  my  father  who  was  so 
well  known  in  the  State,  and  my  brother  who  be 
came  the  great — " 

"Now  don't  begin  on  your  family,  Maria.  We 
know  all  about  it.  We  ain't  heard  nothin'  else 
fer  the  last  three  years.  It's  a  good  thing  that 
some  of  the  women  in  this  home  has  something 
else  to  talk  about  except  the  greatness  of  their 
family,  or  we'd  all  be  dead." 

The  little  old  lady  twisted  her  ball  of  yam 
viciously,  causing  it  to  roll  upon  the  floor,  and 
when  she  had  stiffly  followed  it  and  picked  it  from 
the  corner  her  face  was  very  red,  either  from  the 
exertion  of  stooping  or  from  the  insult  she  felt 
she  had  received. 

"You're  jealous — that's  what's  the  matter 
with  you!  People  who've  no  folks  are  always 
jealous  of  them  who's  had  'em;  but  old  age  has 
its  liberties,  I  suppose,  and  we  must  pardon  a 
great  deal  on  account  of  it." 

"Are  you  speakin'  of  me,  I'd  like  to  know? 
I  ain't  but  four  years  older'n  you.  I'm  only 
seventy-nine  and  you  was  seventy-five  last  May, 


6  DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

though  you  didn't  want  us  to  know  it  was  your 
birthday.  But  I  seen  the  date  in  the  book  some 
one  sent  you,  and  you  can't  deny  it." 

"Never  mind,"  broke  in  the  placid-looking 
lady  again,  trying  to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters;  "don't  fight.  Barbara,  did  they  look 
rich?  Put  your  teeth  in  again — why  can't  you 
leave  'em  alone!  Teeth  are  fer  your  mouth 
and  not  fer  your  pocket.  You  do  beat  me  and 
rile  me  dreadfully,  Barbara." 

"I  tell  you  they  hurt,"  whimpered  Barbara. 
"I  can't  even  enjy  the  sun  with  my  teeth  in." 

"Never  mind.     Did  they?" 

"Did  they  what?" 

"Did  they  look  rich?" 

"Oh,  awful.  I  told  you  they  looked  like  direc 
tors." 

"Perhaps  Drusilla  has  friends  she  ain't  told  us 
about." 

"No,  she  ain't.  She  told  me  one  day  she 
didn't  have  a  friend  or  a  relation  in  the  world, 
and  if  she'd  a  had  'em  they'd  a  been  to  see  her." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  That  ain't  no  sign. 
Your  friends  ferget  you  when  you're  in  an  old 
ladies'  home,"  said  a  voice  bitterly. 

"Well,  I  wonder  who  it  can  be!  I  wish  she'd 
hurry,  so's  we  could  ask  her." 

"Poor   Drusilla!"   said   a   sweet-voiced   little 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION          7 

woman.  "I  hope  some  one's  found  her.  It's 
awful  to  have  no  one  in  all  the  world." 

"How  long's  Drusilla  been  here?" 

"Let  me  see" — and  an  old  lady  put  down  her 
sewing.  "I  been  here  seven  years,  I  was  here 
not  quite  two  years  when  Drusilla  come.  She's 
been  the  linen  woman  ever  since." 

"Yes,"  said  a  woman  who  showed  signs  of  hav 
ing  seen  better  days.  Her  clothes  still  had  a 
look  of  by-gone  elegance  and  her  wrinkled  hands 
were  still  dainty  and  beautifully  kept.  "Drusil- 
la's  our  only  charity  inmate." 

The  stout  old  lady  in  the  corner  emitted  a 
sound  between  a  snort  and  a  groan. 

"Charity  inmate!  What  are  we  all  but  char 
ity  inmates!" 

The  first  old  lady  drew  herself  up  stiffly. 

"You  may  speak  for  yourself,  Mis'  Graham, 
but  /  am  no  charity  inmate." 

"You're  just  as  much  of  one  as  I  am." 

"What  do  you  mean?  I  pay  each  year  a  hun 
dred  and  twenty  dollars,  and  I  paid  when  I 
entered  an  entrance  fee  of  a  hundred  dollars." 

"So'd  we  all;  but  still  this  is  an  old  ladies'  char 
itable  home." 

"Mis'  Graham,  how  can  you  say  such  things !" 
spoke  up  a  voice  that  had  not  been  heard  before. 
"I  consider  that  we  pay  our  way;  and  my  grand- 


8          DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

nephew  who  was  here  last  week  considers  it  am 
ple!" 

"Oh,  so  do  most  of  our  relations  who'd  rather 
pay  our  way  in  a  home  than  be  bothered  with  us 
around." 

"You  may  speak  for  yourself,  Mis'  Graham. 
I  pay  my  way  myself." 

"Yes,  you  was  a  dressmaker  or  something  and 
saved  a  little  money.  Well,  I  never  worked  for 
my  livin'.  It  wasn't  considered  ladylike  in  my 
day." 

"Huh!  You're  trying  to  say  I'm  no  lady. 
Well,  I  consider  that  if  I'm  no  lady  and  worked 
f  er  my  livin',  I  didn't  sponge  off  my  relations  and 
don't  now." 

"Cat!"  hissed  Mrs.  Graham,  and  sat  back  try 
ing  to  think  of  some  suitable  answer. 

"But  don't  Drusilla  pay  nothin'  at  all?"  queried 
another  woman. 

"Not  a  cent.  I  tell  you,  she's  charity.  She's 
a  sort  of  servant.  Ain't  you  seen  the  way  Mis' 
Smith  treats  her  and  orders  her  around?  She 
takes  care  of  the  linen  to  pay  her  way  and  does 
odd  jobs  fer  Mis'  Smith  and  the  family." 

"How  did  she  get  in  if  she  didn't  have  no 
money  at  all?" 

"She's  a  Doane,  and  this  home  was  give  by 
a  Doane  most  sixty  years  ago.  And  the  Com- 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION          9 

mittee  felt  they  couldn't  let  Drusilla  die  in  the 
poor  house  because  of  her  name.  It  might  re 
flect  on  the  home,  and  they'd  lose  some  subscrip 
tions.  So  they  took  her  in." 

"What'd  she  do  before  she  was  took  in?" 

"She  sewed  for  folks  and  nursed  and  done  odd 
jobs  for  the  people  in  the  village.  Everything 
she  could  git  to  do,  I  guess.  And  then  she  got 
old  and  folks  wanted  stylisher  dresses,  and  she 
wa'n't  strong  enough  to  nurse  much,  so  she  had 
to  be  took  in  somewhere.  First  they  thought  of 
sending  her  to  the  county  house,  and  then  as  I 
told  you  they  was  afraid  it  would  look  bad  to 
have  the  Doane  home  for  old  ladies  right  here 
and  a  Doane  in  the  county  house,  so  she  was 
brought  here.  It  most  broke  her  heart,  but 
they've  worked  her  well.  She's  paid  fer  her 
keep  and  more,  which  is  more  than  many  I  know 
of,  what  with  their  appetite." 

"You're  talkin'  at  me  now,  Frances  Smith, 
don't  you  make  no  remarks  about  my  appetite. 
I'm  not  strong  and  must  eat  well  to  keep  up." 

"Humph,  it  makes  you  feeble  to  carry  round. 
I  don't  know  what  would  happen  to  you  if  you 
had  a  chance  to  set  down  once  to  a  square  meal 
of  vittles.  I  guess  you'd  bust." 

"I  want  you  to  understand,  Mis'  Frances 
Smith,  that  I've  et  better  vittles  than  you've  ever 


seen.  When  I  had  my  home  my  table  was  the 
talk  of  the  countryside." 

"Yes,  and  if  you  hadn't  et  up  everything,  per 
haps  you  wouldn't  now  be  where  you  are,  havin' 
beans  on  Monday  and  cabbage  on  Tuesday  and 
soup  on  Wednesday  and — ' 

The  wrangling  went  on  amongst  these  old 
derelicts  sitting  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  Doane 
home  for  old  ladies.  Their  lives  were  filled  with 
little  jealousies  and  quarrels  over  petty  details. 
They  lived  in  the  past  and  exalted  it  until  they 
themselves  had  grown  to  believe  that  they  had 
always  trodden  flowery  pathways,  until  by  some 
unfortunate  chance,  for  which  they  were  not  to 
be  blamed,  these  paths  had  led  them,  when  old 
age  and  helplessness  came  upon  them,  into  this 
home  for  the  poor  and  lonely. 

Drusilla  slowly  made  her  way  to  the  parlor, 
which  she  entered  with  the  wondering,  surprised 
look  still  on  her  face — surprised  that  any  one 
should  ask  for  her,  and  wondering  who  it  could 
be. 

Two  gentlemen  rose  as  she  entered,  and  Mrs. 
Smith,  the  Director  of  the  home,  said : 

"This  is  Drusilla  Doane.  Drusilla,  this  is  Mr. 
Thornton  and  Mr.  Gale,  who  wish  to  speak  with 
you." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        11 

They  bowed  over  Miss  Drusilla's  hand,  which 
was  falteringly  extended. 

"We  are  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Miss  Doane. 
Won't  you  please  sit  down,  as  our  business  will 
take  quite  a  little  time  to  transact."  Turning  to 
Mrs.  Smith:  "May  we  speak  with  her  alone?" 

Mrs.  Smith  plainly  showed  that  she  shared  in 
the  curiosity  of  her  charges  in  regard  to  the 
meaning  of  the  visit  to  Drusilla,  but  she  rose 
from  her  place  and  said: 

"Oh,  of  course  I  will  leave  if  you  must  see 
her  alone." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  taller  of  the  men  dryly. 
"Our  business  is  with  Miss  Doane." 

He  accompanied  Mrs.  Smith  politely  to  the 
door  and  closed  it,  then,  returning,  drew  a  chair 
near  to  Drusilla. 

"We  are  the  bearer  of  news  to  you,  Miss 
Doane." 

Drusilla  clasped  her  hands  a  little  tighter. 

"Has  amrthing  happened?"  she  said.  "But 
nothing  could  happen  that  would  matter  to  me, 
unless—  '  a  panic  stricken  look  came  into  her 
old  eyes  "unless — the  Committee  hain't  decided 
that  I  can't  live  here,  has  it?  They  ain't  goin' 
to  send  me  to  the  county  house,  be  they  ?  I  work 
real  well,  Mr.  Thornton ;  I  work  as  hard  as  I  can. 
I'm  sure  I  pay  fer  my  keep." 


12        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

The  tall  man  cleared  his  throat  and  said  stiffly : 
"No,  Miss  Doane,  we  are  the  bearer  of  good 
news." 

The  short  fat  man  bent  over  and  impulsively 
patted  the  hands  that  were  so  tightly  clenched  in 
her  lap. 

"No,  Miss  Doane,  you  don't  need  to  worry 
about  the  county  house.  You're  not  going  to  it 

yet." 

Drusilla  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief,  and  the 
frightened  look  died  from  her  eyes.  She  leaned 
back  in  her  chair. 

"Then  I  don't  know  what  you've  got  to  tell 
me.  It  can't  be  that  some  one  I  know  is  dead, 
because  all  of  my  friends  died  long  ago." 

Mr.  Gale  said,  "Tell  her,  so  she'll  understand. 
You're  worrying  the  poor  soul." 

Mr.  Thornton  took  a  legal  looking  document 
from  his  pocket  and  a  letter. 

"Miss  Doane,"  he  said,  "did  you  ever  hear  of 
Elias  Doane?" 

"Elias  Doane?  No,  I  don't  believe  I  ever 
did." 

"Well,  he  was  a  distant  relation  of  yours;  an 
other  branch  of  the  family.  He  thought  he  was 
the  last  one  of  the  Doane  name,  as  he  never  mar 
ried.  A  few  weeks  before  his  death,  hearing 
about  this  home  he  sent  me  up  here  to  learn  the 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         13 

particulars  regarding  it,  and  I  found  you  here. 
I  reported  that  there  was  an  inmate  by  the  name 
of  Doane  still  living,  and  we  investigated  and 
found  that  you  belonged  to  the  family  that  we 
thought  was  represented  by  only  one  man,  the 
late  Elias  Doane." 

"He's  dead,  then.  Was  he  a  relation  of  mine, 
did  you  say?" 

"Yes,  very  distantly  related." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  I've  had  some  relations,  even 
if  I  didn't  know  it." 

"Now,  we  will  come  to  the  business,  Miss 
Doane.  Our  client,  the  late  Elias  Doane,  was  a 
very  wealthy  man,  very  wealthy  indeed.  His 
estate  amounts  to  many  millions,  and  he  has  left 
a  very  curious  will." 

The  lawyer  opened  a  paper  in  his  hand  and 
commenced  to  read,  but  Mr.  Gale  interrupted. 

"Don't  bother  her  with  the  will,  Robert;  she 
won't  understand.  Tell  her  about  it  and  give 
her  the  letter." 

"Perhaps  that  is  better,  as  the  legal  terms 
might  be  confusing.  The  gist  of  the  matter  is 
this,  Miss  Doane.  Our  client,  the  late  Elias 
Doane,  left  the  bulk  of  his  money  to  the  many 
charities  in  which  he  is  interested,  but  he  left  you 
his  home  at  Brookvale,  near  New  York  City,  to 
be  kept  up  fittingly  out  of  the  estate,  and  he  gave 


14 

you  outright,  to  use  as  you  may  see  fit,  one  mil 
lion  dollars. 

Drusilla  stared  at  him.  Then  her  faded  old 
face  turned  as  white  as  the  soft  hair  above  it,  and 
without  a  word  she  fell  forward.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  Drusilla  Doane  had  fainted. 

Mr.  Thornton  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  Mr. 
Gale  sprang  for  the  bell.  Water  and  restora 
tives  were  brought,  and  within  a  few  moments 
Drusilla  opened  her  eyes — and  soon  she  remem 
bered.  She  brushed  back  her  disarranged  hair 
and  laughed  a  soft,  sweet  little  laugh. 

"Well,  I'm  beginnin'  well.  All  real  ladies  in 
story  books  faint  when  they  hear  good  news." 

When  she  was  again  seated  in  her  chair  and 
curious  Mrs.  Smith  had  been  politely  expelled 
from  the  room,  Mr.  Thornton  cleared  his  throat 
and  was  again  the  precise  man  of  business. 

"As  I  was  saying,  Miss  Doane,  when  you  in 
terrupted  me,  our  late  client,  Mr.  Elias  Doane, 
left  this  very  remarkable  will  and  also  a  letter 
which  we  were  to  deliver  to  you."  He  handed 
her  the  letter. 

Drusilla  looked  at  it  a  moment  as  she  held  it 
in  her  hand.  She  seemed  unwilling  to  break  its 
seal.  But  the  watching  men  opposite  her  caused 
her  at  last  carefully,  if  not  a  little  tremblingly,  to 
tear  the  covering  which  was  to  reveal  to  her  the 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         15 

wishes  of  a  man,  who  evidently  had  thought  of 
her  and  her  happiness  in  his  last  hours.  She  un 
folded  the  two  pages  covered  with  scrawling 
handwriting,  but  her  faded  eyes  could  make  noth 
ing  of  the  strange  hieroglyphics  traced  upon 
them,  and  she  handed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Thorn 
ton,  saying: 

"I  guess  it  can't  be  nothin'  private.  You  read 
it;  I  left  my  glasses  in  my  work-basket." 

Mr.  Thornton  adjusted  his  pince-nez  and 
read: 

MY  DEAR  DRUSILLA: 

You  will  allow  me  to  call  you  that,  as  it  is  the  first 
and  will  be  the  last  time  that  I  will  so  address  you ;  con 
sequently  you  will  pardon  the  seeming  undue  familiarity. 

I  first  want  to  say  that  I  regret  that  I  did  not  know 
of  your  existence  earlier,  when  perhaps  I  could  have 
made  life  easier  for  you — although  quite  likely  I  would 
have  added  to  its  perplexities.  We  are  the  last  of  a 
good  family :  you,  Drusilla  Doane,  an  inmate  of  a  chari 
table  institution,  and  I,  Elias  Doane,  millionaire,  phi 
lanthropist,  and  rare  old  humbug.  You  have  passed 
your  life  in  toil,  trying  to  earn  your  daily  bread,  and 
have  found  yourself  nearing  the  end  of  this  footless 
journey  that  we  call  life,  alone  and  friendless.  I  have 
passed  my  days  in  toil  also,  and  find  myself,  at  the  end, 
as  much  alone  and  friendless  as  is  the  loneliest  inmate 


16        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

of  the  Doane  home.  I  have  had  bread,  yes ;  and  often 
eaten  it  in  bitterness.  I  have  had  friends,  yes ;  and 
doubted  their  sincerity.  Love,  wife,  children,  home,  all 
have  been  sacrificed  to  pride  of  wealth,  of  power,  and 
things — just  mere  things,  that  cannot  touch  the  hand 
in  times  of  sorrow,  nor  rejoice  in  times  of  joy.  But  I 
do  not  complain ;  I  made  my  god  a  thing  of  gilt  and 
tinsel,  and  he  repaid  me  for  my  worship.  And  now  I 
go  to  meet  another  God. 

But  before  I  go  I  want  to  give  another  a  chance  to 
do  what  I  have  never  done — enjoy  my  money — if  such 
a  thing  can  give  enjoyment.  A  great  share  of  my 
hard-earned  dollars  will  go  in  salaries  to  fat  officials 
and  well-fed  directors  of  the  institutions  I  have  endowed, 
but  the  little  I  have  given  you  I  want  you  to  spend  as 
you  see  fit.  Throw  it  to  the  winds,  if  you  so  desire, 
or  feed  it  to  the  squirrels  in  Central  Park. 

I  am  looking  forward  to  enjoyment  in  seeing  the  way 
you  spend  the  money.  They  say  when  we  have  passed 
over  the  river  that  the  things  of  this  world  will  no 
longer  interest  us;  but,  Drusilla,  that  is  not  true.  I 
know  my  days  will  be  spent  leaning  over  the  battlements 
watching  the  fools  striving  here  below ;  and  the  biggest 
telescope  in  Heaven — or  perhaps  the  other  place — will 
be  trained  upon  Drusilla  Doane. 

I  give  you  a  few  words  of  advice.  Better  allow 
Thornton  to  act  as  your  business  manager.  He  is  an 
old  fool  but  honest.  But  follow  your  own  wishes  in  all 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         17 

things  except  in  actual  business.  I  have  directed  that 
all  the  expenses  of  the  place  at  Brookvale  shall  be  met 
from  a  trust  that  I  have  created,  as  you  are  far  too  old 
to  be  worried  with  the  details  of  the  new  life  which  you 
now  will  enter.  Thornton  is  a  nosy  man  and  it  will 
delight  his  soul  to  boss  your  servants  and  see  that  cheat 
ing  tradesmen  are  kept  in  check. 

Another  thing  I  wish  to  say — you  can  act  upon  it  as 
you  see  fit — it  is  simply  the  advice  of  an  old  man  who 
has  known  his  world.  Don't  subscribe  to  public  chari 
ties  ;  they're  mostly  grafts,  and  besides  they  have  more 
of  the  Doane  millions  now  than  is  good  for  them.  And 
don't  help  the  needy  poor  upon  another  man's  advice; 
see  your  poor — know  your  poor. 

And  now,  Drusilla  Doane,  good-by.  Enjoy  my  mil 
lion  !  Don't  make  too  big  a  fool  of  yourself,  nor  marry 
your  tango  teacher,  but  spend  my  million,  Drusilla, 
spend  it — and  may  God  rest  your  soul ! 

There  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments  after  Mr. 
Thornton  had  finished  reading  the  letter.  He 
folded  the  paper  and  then  said  dryly: 

"I'm  glad  to  know  that  my  client  appreciated 
and  recognized  my  abilities,  at  least  along  some 
lines." 

He  turned  to  Drusilla,  who  seemed  hardly 
to  realize  or  understand  the  contents  of  the  let 
ter. 


18        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Shall  I  file  the  letter  along  with  the  other 
papers,  or  do  you  wish  to  keep  it?"  he  asked. 

Drusilla  took  the  letter,  and  folded  it  and  re 
folded  it,  looking  down  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  thing 
alive. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Mr.  Thornton,  I  should 
like  to  keep  it,"  she  said.  "He  meant  well  by 
me,  and  his  letter  is  kind  though  he  said  it  in  a 
queer  way;  but  it  is  the  first  letter  I've  had  from 
any  one  for  a  long  time,  and  I  should  like  to  keep 
it.  It  makes  it  all  seem  more  real." 

The  lawyer  rose. 

"Now  we  will  leave  you.  When  will  you  be 
ready  to  come  with  us  to  New  York?" 

Drusilla  smiled  her  soft  sweet  smile. 

"I  haven't  much  to  get  ready,  Mr.  Thornton. 
It  won't  take  me  long  to  pack  my  things." 

"Then  shall  we  say  that  I  may  come  for  you 
to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  to-morrow  will  be  as  well  as  any  other 
day.  Unless — unless  Mis'  Smith  needs  me— 

Mr.  Thornton  said  with  a  dry  smile: 

"I  do  not  think  it  will  be  necessary  to  consult 
Mrs.  Smith." 

The  men  started  for  the  door,  and  then  ex 
tended  their  hands. 

"We  want  to  congratulate  you,  Miss  Doane. 
We  sincerely  hope  that  this  will  be  the  beginning 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        19 

of  a  very  happy  life  for  you.  You  may  com 
mand  me  in  all  things.  By  the  way,  may  we 
see  the  Director?" 

Drusilla  started  to  the  door,  but  the  lawyer 
intercepted  her. 

"No;  do  not  go  yourself.     Ring  for  her." 

Drusilla  sat  down  again,  rather  aghast  at  the 
idea  of  asking  any  one  else  to  do  a  service  for 
her,  who  all  her  life  had  been  at  the  beck  and  call 
of  other  people.  One  of  the  old  ladies  came  and 
was  asked  to  bring  Mrs.  Smith.  The  Director 
came  quickly,  showing  that  she  had  not  been  far 
away. 

"Mrs.  Smith,"  Mr.  Thornton  said,  "we  will 
come  to-morrow  afternoon  to  take  Miss  Doane 
with  us.  She  has  been  left  a  legacy  and  will  no 
longer  be  an  inmate  of  the  Doane  home." 

Mrs.  Smith's  expression  changed  instantly. 

"Why,  I'm  real  glad.  Drusilla,  you  know  I 
will  be  the  first  to  rejoice  in  your  good  fortune." 

Drusilla's  face  was  a  study  for  a  moment  as 
she  remembered  the  many  shrill  orders  and  the 
thousand  and  one  ways  that  the  Director  had  em 
ployed  to  make  her  lonely  life  harder  than  was 
really  necessary;  but  kindliness  triumphed  and 
the  hard  look  left  her  eyes. 

"I'm  sure,  Mis'  Smith,  you  will  be  glad  with 
me,"  she  said;  and  she  thought  in  her  kindly  old 


20        DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

heart,  "Perhaps  she  didn't  mean  to  be  mean;  she 
was  just  too  busy  to  think." 

The  men  left  and  Drusilla  was  alone  with  the 
Director,  whose  curiosity  was  nearly  consuming 
her. 

"What  has  happened,  Drusilla?  Has  some 
one  left  you  money?" 

"Yes,"  said  Drusilla. 

"Who?" 

"A  relation  I  didn't  know." 

"Did  he  leave  you  much?" 

Drusilla  said  quietly:     "A  million  dollars." 

Mrs.  Smith  nearly  fell  from  her  chair. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"A  million  dollars." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"That's  what  the  lawyer,  Mr.  Thornton,  said." 

Mrs.  Smith  was  speechless. 

"I  can't  believe  my  ears.  There  must  be  some 
mistake.  I'll — I'll — go  and  talk  it  over  with 
some  one.  Do  you  want  to  go  to  your  room,  or 
will  you  go  out  to  the  women,  Drusilla?" 

"I  think  I'll  go  to  my  room  fer  a  while,  if  I 
may — that  is,  if  you  don't  need  me,  Mis'  Smith." 

Mrs.  Smith  shook  her  head.  Need  her,  need 
a  woman  who  had  just  been  left  a  million  dol 
lars!  No,  indeed;  not  in  the  way  that  Drusilla 
meant. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        21 

Drusilla  went  slowly  up  to  her  room  and  sat 
down  in  the  little  rocker  by  the  bed.  She  tried 
to  think  it  all  over;  but  it  did  not  seem  real. 
She  felt  the  letter  in  her  pocket  and,  finding  her 
second-best  pair  of  glasses,  moved  her  chair  close 
to  the  window  and  read  it  through  slowly. 
Then,  holding  the  letter  in  her  hands,  she  sat 
back  in  her  chair  and  the  tears  welled  slowly 
from  her  faded  eyes,  rolling  down  the  wrinkled 
cheeks  and  falling,  drop  by  drop,  on  to  her  dress 
unnoticed.  She  was  not  thinking  of  the  money 
but  of  the  kindly  old  man  who  had  thought  of 
her  in  his  last  hours,  and  planned  for  her  happi 
ness.  She  had  never  had  any  one  plan  for  her 
happiness  before,  nor  care  for  her  for  so  many 
years  that  she  had  forgotten  what  care  meant, 
and  her  heart  seemed  full  to  bursting.  She  said 
softly  to  herself,  "He  must  'a'  cared  something 
fer  me  or  he  wouldn't  'a'  thought  of  it  all.  He 
must  'a'  cared." 


CHAPTER  II 

r  llHE  next  morning  there  was  a  buzz  of  ex- 
JL  citement  in  the  Doane  home  for  old  ladies. 
Word  had  got  around  that  Drusilla  had  been  left 
a  fortune  and  was  going  away.  Some  of  the 
ladies  were  plainly  envious  and  said  spiteful, 
catty  things,  while  others  were  glad  that  at  least 
one  of  their  number  would  be  able  to  leave  be 
hind  the  "home" — the  living  on  charity — that 
nightmare  of  the  old.  Drusilla  had  endeared 
most  of  them  to  her  by  her  many  kindly  acts, 
prompted  by  a  loving  heart  that  even  years  of 
poverty  and  unappreciated  labor  for  others  had 
not  hardened. 

She  passed  the  morning  in  looking  over  her 
few  possessions  and  making  little  packages  of  the 
things  she  treasured  to  be  given  to  her  friends 
after  she  left.  The  handkerchiefs  she  had  em 
broidered  before  her  eye-sight  wras  bad,  she  left 
for  Barbara.  A  little  lace  cap  that  had  been 
given  her  years  ago  and  which  she  had  never 
worn,  thinking  it  too  "fancy,"  was  for  the  old 

lady   who   had   seen   better   days.     The  heavy 

22 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         23 

shawl  was  for  the  oldest  inmate,  Grandma  Per 
kins,  who  always  suffered  with  the  cold.  The 
warm  bed-stockings  were  neatly  folded  and  left 
with  a  little  word  of  love  to  Mary,  who  had  rheu 
matism;  and  to  Mrs.  Childs,  the  beauty  of  the 
place,  she  left  her  lace  fichu. 

There  was  ample  room  within  the  tiny  trunk 
for  her  clothing.  The  plain  black  cashmere  that 
had  been  turned  and  returned  until  it  had  nearly 
forgotten  its  original  texture,  but  which  was  her 
Sunday  best,  the  two  black  dresses  for  every-day 
wear,  the  two  night-dresses  of  Canton  flannel, 
the  woolen  underskirt  and  the  lighter  one  for 
summer,  the  heavy  stockings,  the  Sunday  shoes, 
a  life  of  John  Calvin  that  a  director  had  given 
her,  her  Bible — and  the  packing  was  completed. 

When  Mrs.  Smith  came  herself  to  tell  her  that 
Mr.  Thornton  had  arrived,  and  in  a  motor  car, 
she  trembled  so  that  she  feared  she  would  not  be 
able  to  go  down  to  meet  him.  But  finally  she 
put  on  the  little  bonnet  that  she  had  worn  for 
many  years,  and  her  "mantle" — an  antiquated 
wrap  that  had  been  given  her  by  some  kindly 
patron  of  former  years — and  went  down  the 
stairs.  Mr.  Thornton  looked  at  the  little  old 
lady  as  she  came  into  the  room — this  little, 
kindly-faced,  white-haired  old  woman,  who 
showed  so  plainly  that  life  had  sent  her  sorrow 


24        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

but  not  bitterness — and  offered  her  his  hand, 
saying: 

"I  am  glad  you  are  ready,  Miss  Doane.  We 
will  have  a  nice  ride  to  the  city." 

Drusilla  looked  up  at  him  like  a  pitiful  child. 

"I — I — may  I  set  down  a  minute — I — I'm 
rather  trembly.  I — I  didn't  sleep  last  night 
a-thinkin'  of  it  all." 

She  sat  down  and  tried  to  still  the  trembling 
of  her  lips  and  keep  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 
Then,  after  a  few  moments,  she  said: 

"Will  you  wait  here  or  somewhere,  Mr.  Thorn 
ton?  I  want  to  say  good-by.  Mis'  Smith 
thought  I  hadn't  better  see  the  ladies  until  I  was 
ready  to  leave,  as  it  might  upset  them." 

"I  will  wait  in  the  car  for  you,  Miss  Doane. 
Don't  hurry;  take  all  the  time  you  want." 

Drusilla  went  to  the  sunny  veranda  where  she 
knew  she  would  find  the  women  in  their  accus 
tomed  places,  and  immediately  she  was  the  center 
of  the  curious  old  ladies,  who  welcomed  any  ex 
citement  that  would  relieve  the  monotony  of  their 
lives. 

"It's  true,  Drusilla — then  it's  true,  you're-a- 
goin'  to  leave  us!  It's  true  what  Mis'  Graham 
heard  Mis'  Smith  tell  Mr.  Smith  last  night." 

"What  did  she  hear  her  say?" 

"She  heard  her   say,   'What   do  you  think, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         25 

James!  Drusilla  Doane  has  been  left  a  million 
dollars!'" 

"That's  what  the  man  told  me,"  Drusilla  said 
quietly;  "and  he's  come  to  take  me  away.  I 
come  to  say  good-by." 

The  women  sat  forward  in  their  chairs  and 
stopped  their  knitting  or  darning,  so  that  they 
would  not  miss  a  word. 

"Well,  I  swan!  A  million  dollars!  A  mil 
lion  dollars!" 

"Is  it  true,  Drusilla?  Do  you  think  it  can  be 
so  much?" 

"I  don't  know — that's  what  he  said.  He's 
waitin'  for  me  and  I  must  be  goin'.  Good-by, 
dear  Harriet.  Good-by,  Caroline.  Good-by, 
Mis'  Graham;  you  always  been  good  to  me. 
Good-by,  Mis'  Fisher ;  I  ain't  never  goin'  to  f er- 
get  how  good  you  was  to  me  when  I  was  sick. 
Good-by  all,  good-by.  I'm  comin'  often  to  see 
you.  Good-by." 

She  looked  slowly  around  on  her  friends,  then 
walked  down  the  veranda  to  the  waiting  motor. 
Just  as  she  reached  it  old  Barbara  came  shuffling 
up  to  her.  "Oh,  Drusilla,"  she  mumbled,  taking 
her  hand,  "I'm  so  glad  for  you,  I'm  so  glad.  I 
hope  it  is  a  million  dollars." 

The  loving  touch  was  too  much  for  tired 
Drusilla.  The  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes  and  she 


26        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

clasped  Barbara's  hands  in  both  of  her  own. 

"Oh,  Barbara,"  she  said,  "it  gives  me  a  hurt 
inside  my  heart  to  leave  you  all  behind !  Listen, 
Barbara !  Whether  it's  a  million  dollars  or  only 
a  hundred,  you  shall  have  new  store  teeth. 
Good-by!" 

To  Drusilla's  embarrassment  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Smith  were  waiting  for  her  beside  the  motor 
to  say  good-by,  and  were  effusive  in  their  fare 
wells. 

"You  will  come  to  see  us,  won't  you,  Miss 
Doane,  and  you  won't  forget  us" — and  Drusilla 
was  tucked  into  the  luxurious  motor,  a  footstool 
found  for  her  feet,  a  soft  rug  wrapped  around 
her  and  they  drove  away. 

She  was  quiet  for  the  greater  part  of  the  jour 
ney,  and  Mr.  Thornton  left  her  to  her  own 
thoughts.  Finally  she  sat  more  upright  and  be 
gan  to  take  an  interest  in  the  fittings  of  the  car. 
Mr.  Thornton  watched  her 

"Do  you  like  the  car?"  he  asked 

"It's  beautiful.  You  know  it's  the  first  time 
I  been  in  one." 

"Why,  is  it  possible  ?  I  thought  every  one  had 
been  in  a  motor." 

"No,  not  every  one,  Mr.  Thornton;  I  don't 
think  that  more'n  two  of  the  ladies  in  the  home 
have  been  in  one.  This  is  fixed  up  real  nice." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        27 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  Mr.  Thornton  said. 
"It  is  yours." 

Drusilla  sat  back  suddenly  in  her  seat. 

"This— this— mine?" 

"Yes,  this  is  yours,  and  you  have  two  more  at 
your  home." 

Drusilla  gasped. 

"Two  more  like  this?" 

"No,  not  exactly  the  same.  One  is  an  open 
car  and  one  is  a  small  town  car." 

"Why— why— what'll  I  do  with  three?  I 
can't  ride  in  'em  all  at  once." 

"No,  but  you  will  find  that  you  can  use  them 
all." 

"Can  I  use  them  whenever  I  want  to?" 

"Certainly;  they  are  yours.  All  you  have  to 
do  is  to  send  word  to  one  of  the  chauffeurs  and 
they  will  be  ready  for  you." 

"Send  word  to  who?" 

"The  chauffeur,  the  man  who  is  driving." 

"Is  he  mine,  too?" 

"Yes;  you  have  two  men." 

"What'll  I  do  with  two?" 

"One  will  be  on  duty  a  certain  number  of 
hours,  and  then  the  other  takes  his  place." 

"Oh — "  She  was  quiet  for  a  time.  "Can  I 
take  them  anywhere  I  want  to?" 

"Certainly.     They  are  yours." 


28        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Then,  I  know  what  I'll  do!  I'll  take  the  old 
ladies  for  a  ride!  Wouldn't  Mis'  Graham  love 
it,  and  old  Grandma  Perkins — we  could  bundle 
her  up;  and  Barbara  might  even  ferget  her 
teeth." 

Drusilla  settled  back  among  the  cushions  and 
mused  upon  the  joy  she  could  give  with  this  new 
wonder  machine  that  was  hers  to  do  with  as  she 
wished,  and  the  frightened  look  died  from  her 
face  and  a  happy  smile  seemed  trying  to  crowd 
the  wrinkles  from  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
She  said  nothing  more  for  a  long  time ;  then : 

"Are  we  goin'  very  fast,  Mr.  Thornton?" 

"No;  not  so  very  fast.  Are  you  nervous?  I 
will  have  the  chauffeur  drive  slower.  I  forgot 
you  were  not  used  to  it." 

Drusilla  stopped  him  as  he  started  to  speak  to 
the  chauffeur. 

"No;  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.  I  ain't  nerv 
ous.  I  was  just  wonderin'  if  he  couldn't  go  a 
little  faster." 

Mr.  Thornton  looked  somewhat  surprised,  but 
he  gave  the  order. 

Drusilla  again  sat  back  among  the  cushions, 
a  slight  flush  on  her  face.  Soon  she  leaned  for 
ward  once  more. 

"Mr.  Thornton,  couldn't  he  let  her  out  jest  a 
leetle  more?" 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         29 

Thornton  laughed. 

"We'll  go  as  fast  as  you  like;  only  I  hope  we 
won't  be  arrested." 

Drusilla  sighed. 

"I'd  be  willin'  to  go  to  jail  to  pay  fer  feelin' 
like  this.  I  always  thought  I'd  have  to  wait  till 
I  got  to  Heaven  before  I'd  git  a  chance  to  fly, 
but  now  they'll  have  to  offer  me  something  new." 

She  said  nothing  more  on  the  journey,  but 
showed  by  the  bright  flush  on  her  cheeks  and  the 
sparkle  in  her  eyes  that  she  was  enjoying  every 
moment  of  the  ride.  At  last  they  turned,  passed 
a  pair  of  big  gate-posts  and  up  a  graveled  drive 
way,  and  the  car  stopped  before  a  door. 

When  a  man  came  from  the  house  and  opened 
the  door  of  the  car,  Drusilla  came  to  herself  with 
a  start. 

"Are  we  there  already?  I  was  kind  of  hopin' 
it'd  never  stop." 

Mr.  Thornton  gravely  helped  Drusilla  to  the 
door. 

"Welcome  to  your  home,  Miss  Doane,"  he 
said.  "I  think  we  will  find  my  daughter  inside." 

They  entered  a  large  hall  and  Drusilla  stood 
hesitatingly,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  In  a  mo 
ment  a  voice  was  heard  from  above : 

"Is  that  you,  Father?"  and  a  laughing  face 
peered  over  the  railing,  and  was  followed  by  a 


30        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

slim  young  figure  that  seemed  to  fly  down  the 
stairs.  "Oh,  you  were  such  a  long  time,  Father. 
Welcome  home,  Miss  Doane!  we  are  so  glad  to 
have  you.  We  have  all  been  waiting  such  a  long 
time.  Father  is  always  so  slow;"  and  she  flew 
in  her  pretty,  impulsive  way  to  Drusilla  and  took 
both  her  hands.  "I  am  so  glad  to  have  you 
come,  Miss  Doane." 

Drusilla  looked  at  the  pretty  face  before  her 
that  seemed  to  show  such  real  welcome,  and  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"I'm  real  glad  to  come,  but — but — I  guess  I'm 
a  little  bit  scared." 

"No,  you  aren't  going  to  be  frightened  at  all. 
You  come  right  up  with  me  and  take  off  your  hat 
in  your  room.  Oh,  here  is  Mrs.  Perrine.  She  is 
your  housekeeper,  Miss  Doane.  And  that  is 
James,  the  butler ;  and  that  is  Mary ;  and  Jeanne 
is  waiting  for  you  upstairs.  Come  with  me." 

Drusilla  followed  as  well  as  she  could  the  fly 
ing  feet  up  the  broad  stairs  and  was  taken  to  a 
room  that  seemed  to  her  a  palace.  It  was  all  in 
soft  shades  of  gray  with  a  touch  of  blue  here  and 
there,  and  there  were  flowers  everywhere.  The 
chairs  were  upholstered  in  gray  and  blue  chintz, 
and  at  the  windows  hung  gray  silk  curtains  with 
just  a  hint  of  the  blue  showing  beneath  them. 
Near  the  fireplace  was  a  big  couch  with  a  soft 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         31 

gray  silk  quilt  spread  upon  it,  and  pillows  that 
invited  one  to  rest.  Drusilla  stopped  in  delight. 

"Oh — oh — what  a  pretty  room!  What  a 
pretty  room!" 

Miss  Thornton  dimpled  all  over  her  pretty 
face. 

"Do  you  like  it?  Oh,  please  say  you  like  it! 
I  arranged  these  rooms  myself.  This  was  a 
bachelor  house,  and  there  wasn't  a  pretty  room 
in  the  place.  I  made  Father  let  me  fix  them  for 
you.  You  do  like  them,  don't  you?" 

"I  never  saw  nothin'  like  it  before  in  my  life." 

"You  don't  think  it  too  gay,  do  you?  Mother 
said  I  ought  not  have  the  blue,  that  they  should 
all  be  done  in  a  dark  color.  But  I  said  I  knew 
you  would  love  pretty  things,  and  you  should 
have  them.  You  don't  think  it  too  gay.  You 
like  the  blue,  don't  you?" 

"I  love  it,  I  love  it!  I  never  had  nothin'  gay 
colored  in  my  life,  and  I  love  it." 

"I  knew  you  would.  Come  into  the  bedroom. 
Isn't  this  gray  furniture  dear?  Don't  those 
long  mirrors  look  lovely  with  the  gray  wood? 
And  aren't  the  toilet  things  pretty?  See  the 
monogram — D.D.  I  thought  a  lot  about  it, 
and  aren't  they  pretty  on  that  dull  silver?  Look 
at  this  mirror — and  isn't  that  the  cunningest  pin- 
tray?  And  this  is  for  your  hatpins;  and  look  at 


32        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

this  pin-cushion.  I  had  the  loveliest  time  pick 
ing  them  out." 

Drusilla  looked  at  the  pretty  things  in  amaze 
ment  rather  mixed  with  awe. 

"Why,  what'll  I  do  with  aU  them  things?" 

"Oh,  you'll  use  them  all.  There  isn't  one  too 
many,  and  perhaps  I've  forgotten  some  things. 
If  I  have,  we  will  go  and  pick  them  out  together. 
You  will  let  me  go  with  you,  won't  you,  because  I 
love  to  shop.  Oh,  I  forgot — here  is  your  bath 
room,  and  beyond  that  is  your  maid's  room.  She 
is  quite  near,  so  if  you  feel  ill  in  the  night  you  can 
call  her.  But  let  me  take  off  your  hat.  Shall 
I  ring  for  Jeanne?  No,"  as  she  saw  the  fright 
ened  look  come  into  the  eyes,  "perhaps  you'd 
rather  be  with  me  just  at  first.  How  pretty 
your  hair  is,  so  soft  and  fluffy.  You  must  blue 
it,  it  is  so  white.  I  wish  my  hair  would  fluff,  but 
it  won't  curl  except  in  wet  weather.  Now  come 
into  the  other  room  and  sit  down  in  that  soft 
chair.  Isn't  that  an  easy  chair?  I  picked  that 
out  too.  I  chose  everything  in  the  room,  and 
I'm  so  proud  of  it.  See,  here  is  the  footstool 
that  goes  with  it,  and  you  sit  by  the  big  win- 
dpw  here  when  you  don't  want  to  go  downstairs, 
and  this  little  table  will  hold  your  books  or  your 
sewing." 

Drusilla  looked  up  at  her. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        33 

"  You've  been  real  kind,  Miss  Thornton ; 
you've  thought  of  everything." 

"But  I  loved  it.  I've  been  working  ever  since 
Father  knew  about  you." 

"It  is  nice  of  you  to  be  here.  I  was  afraid  a 
little  to  come,  not  knowin'  what  it  was  goin'  to 
be  like." 

"That's  what  I  told  Father.  I  said  you  didn't 
want  to  come  into  a  big  cold  house  with  only  a 
cold  lawyer  like  him  to  say,  'Welcome  home.'  I 
made  him  let  me  come.  I'm  going  to  stay  to 
dinner  with  you  if  you'll  invite  me.  We'll  send 
Father  home.  I  don't  live  far  from  here — only 
about  five  minutes  in  the  car — and  Father  can 
send  back  for  me.  Would  you  like  me  to  stay?" 

Drusilla  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"Oh,  do  stay,  Miss  Thornton.  I — I — well,  I 
wouldn't  know  what  to  do  by  myself." 

"Well,  you  sit  here  by  this  fire  and  I'll  go 
down  and  tell  Father  to  go  away.  You  don't 
want  to  hear  any  more  business  to-night  and 
Father  always  talks  business.  Just  you  take  a 
little  nap  while  I'm  gone.  Are  you  comfortable? 
There!  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes." 

Drusilla  sat  down  in  the  comfortable  chair  and 
watched  the  flames  flickering  in  the  grate;  then 
her  eyes  passed  lovingly  around  the  room,  resting 
on  each  beautiful  picture,  on  the  soft  draperies, 


34.        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

the  easy-chairs  and  the  flowers.  She  sat  as  one 
in  a  dream,  until  light  steps  were  heard  and  Miss 
Thornton  again  entered  the  room. 

"Did  you  sleep?" 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"No,  I  didn't  want  to  shut  my  eyes.  I  was 
afraid  it  might  all  go  away  and  I'd  be  again  in 
the  bare  little  rooms  I've  always  lived  in.  I 
don't  think  I'll  ever  sleep  again — I  might  miss 
somethin'." 

"Isn't  that  lovely!  Why,  you'll  always  have 
lovely  things  all  your  life.  And  now  I've  told 
James  that  we're  going  to  have  dinner  up  here. 
The  dining-room  looks  too  big  for  us  two." 

Miss  Thornton  busied  herself  around  the  room 
for  a  few  moments ;  then  drew  a  chair  in  front  of 
the  grate  and  sat  down  beside  Drusilla  while  the 
butler  and  a  maid  brought  in  a  small  table. 
Drusilla  watched  them  as  they  noiselessly  ar 
ranged  the  china  and  the  glass  upon  the  beautiful 
cloth,  and  when  all  was  prepared  the  butler  said 
in  his  even,  "servant"  tones,  "Dinner  is  served," 
and  went  behind  the  chair  reserved  for  the  mis 
tress  of  the  house.  Drusilla  hesitated  a  moment, 
in  evident  awe  of  the  butler,  who  stood  so  erect 
and  stiff  in  his  evening  clothes,  but  here  again 
kindly  Daphne  Thornton  came  to  her  aid. 

"Now,  you  sit  here,  Miss  Doane,"  and  she  took 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        35 

her  to  the  chair  which  the  butler  deftly  slid  into 
place.  "I  will  be  just  opposite  you.  Isn't  this 
nicer  than  sitting  at  that  great  big  table  down 
stairs  where  we  would  need  a  telephone  to  talk 
to  each  other?" 

She  chatted  all  through  the  dinner,  showing  in 
a  kindly,  unobtrusive  way  the  uses  of  the  differ 
ent  things  that  might  be  an  embarrassment  to  the 
little  old  lady  who  was  used  to  the  simple  service 
of  a  charity  table.  After  dinner  the  coffee  was 
served  on  a  small  table  in  front  of  the  fire. 

While  they  were  drinking  it  a  maid  entered 
the  room. 

"The  motor  has  come  for  Miss  Thornton,"  she 
announced. 

Daphne  rose. 

"Now,  I  am  going  to  leave  you.  Get  a  good 
sleep.  I  will  call  Jeanne,  who  will  take  care  of 
you.  She  is  your  personal  maid,  Miss  Doane, 
so  tell  her  anything  you  want." 

Answering  the  ring  of  the  bell  a  pretty  maid 
came  into  the  room,  and  Miss  Thornton  said : 

"Jeanne,  this  is  Miss  Doane,  your  mistress. 
She  is  tired  and  will  like  to  go  to  bed  early,  I  am 
sure.  See  that  she  has  a  good  warm  bath,  as  it 
will  help  her  sleep.  And,  Miss  Doane,  I  bought 
a  few  things  for  you,  as  perhaps  your  luggage 
might  not  come  in  time.  Jeanne  will  have  them 


36        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

ready  for  you.  Now,  good  night !  I  am  so  glad 
you  have  come,  and  I  know  you  will  be  so  happy. 
You  will  let  me  come  often  to  see  you,  won't 
you?" 

She  came  over  to  the  chair  and  bent  her  pretty 
young  head  over  the  old  white  one,  and  Drusilla 
reached  up  her  arms  and  took  the  smiling  face 
between  her  hands. 

"You'll  never  know,  dear,  what  you've  done 
for  a  lonely  old  woman.  I  don't  know  how  to 
thank  you." 

"Thank  me — why,  I  should  thank  you.  I 
have  had  such  a  nice  time,  and  I'm  so  glad  that 
you  like  the  rooms — Mother  said  you  wouldn't. 
Would  you  like  me  to  come  in  the  morning  and 
see  how  you  are  getting  on?" 

"Oh,  will  you?  I  won't  know  what  to  do,  you 
know." 

"Yes,  I'll  love  to  come  and  I'll  be  here  early. 
Good  night  and  happy  dreams!"  And  she  was 
gone. 

When  she  was  alone  Drusilla  sat  before  the 
fire  and  tried  to  feel  that  it  all  was  true,  that  it 
was  not  some  beautiful  dream  from  which  she 
would  waken.  She  went  in  retrospect  over  her 
past  life  from  the  time  when,  a  little  girl,  her 
father  dying,  she  and  her  mother  were  left  with 
no  support  except  the  little  earned  by  her  mother, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         37 

who  was  the  village  tailoress.  Then  when  she 
became  older  the  burden  of  the  support  for  the 
two  shifted  to  her  shoulders,  her  mother  seem 
ing  to  have  lost  heart  and  with  it  the  strength 
and  the  desire  to  make  the  grim  fight  with  the 
wolf  that  always  seemed  so  near  the  door.  For 
years  she  struggled  on,  doing  the  country  tailor 
ing,  nursing  the  sick,  helping  in  families  who 
were  too  poor  to  hire  expert  labor,  missing  all  the 
joys  that  come  to  the  average  young  girl,  as  all 
her  leisure  moments  from  work  were  given  to  an 
ailing  mother  who  seemed  to  become  more  de 
pendent  upon  her  daughter  each  year  for  com 
panionship  and  strength. 

Yet  romance  did  not  entirely  pass  her  by,  for 
when  she  was  nineteen  she  loved  and  wras  loved 
in  return  by  John  Brier ly.  They  were  an  ideal 
couple,  the  neighbors  said.  He,  young,  hand 
some,  although  a  little  too  much  of  a  dreamer  to 
be  a  success ;  she,  the  prettiest  girl  in  all  the  coun 
try  side.  John  was  restless,  and  with  youth's  am 
bition  rebelled  against  the  narrow  restrictions  of 
the  little  town.  Hearing  the  call  of  the  West, 
he  decided  to  go  to  the  country  of  his  dreams 
and  find  the  fortune  that  he  knew  was  waiting 
him  in  that  new  land  of  mystery.  He  tried  to 
persuade  Drusilla  to  marry  him  and  go  with  him ; 
but  her  mother,  with  a  sick  woman's  persistency, 


38        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

demanded  that  her  daughter  stay  with  her, 
They  offered  to  take  her  with  them,  and  painted 
in  glowing  colors  the  new  life  in  that  "far  be 
yond";  but  she  wept  in  terror  at  the  thought  of 
leaving  all  she  knew,  and  clung  the  more  closely 
to  Drusilla,  begging  her  to  stay  with  her  until  the 
end.  "When  I  am  gone,  Drusilla,  you  may  go; 
but  let  me  die  here  among  the  things  I  know  and 
love" ;  and  Drusilla  and  John  put  off  the  journey 
from  year  to  year,  until  at  last  John  in  despera 
tion  said,  "Drusilla,  I  can  wait  no  longer.  I 
must  go.  I  will  wait  for  you,  and  some  day  you 
will  come  to  me." 

The  years  rolled  on.  Drusilla  heard  from 
John  from  time  to  time,  but  after  many  years  the 
letters  stopped.  Her  mother  lived  long  enough 
to  see  Drusilla  becoming  old  and  tired  and  worn, 
and  then  she,  too,  left  her  for  the  Great  Un 
known.  Drusilla  worked  on,  making  the  clothes 
for  each  rising  generation,  helping  tired  mothers, 
caring  for  the  sick.  But  at  last  she  had  to  give 
up  the  fight;  she  was  too  old.  Quicker  feet 
were  wanted,  younger  hands,  and  Drusilla 
learned  the  bitter  lesson  that  comes  often  to  the 
old.  They  are  stumbling-blocks  in  the  pathway 
of  the  young.  This  knowledge  broke  her  cour 
age  and  her  health,  and  her  hard  saved  dollars 
were  spent  in  doctor's  bills.  When  strength 


39 

came  slowly  back  to  her  she  was  too  weak  to  re 
bel  against  the  order  that  she  was  to  pass  the  re 
mainder  of  her  days  at  the  Doane  home.  Even 
there  she  tried  to  keep  her  feeling  of  self-respect 
and  independence  by  doing  the  work  that  was 
not  given  the  other  women,  who  "paid  their  way." 
The  Director  and  his  wife,  busy,  annoyed  by  a 
thousand  petty  details,  were  not  consciously  un 
kind,  but  they  found  it  easy  to  shift  a  few  of  their 
burdens  to  the  shoulders  that  always  seemed  able 
to  carry  a  little  heavier  load;  consequently  the 
willing  hands  were  always  occupied,  the  wearied 
feet  often  made  many  steps  on  errands  that 
should  have  been  relegated  to  one  of  few  years. 

Drusilla,  sitting  before  the  fire,  saw  all  these 
bitter  years  pass  like  shadows  before  her  half- 
closed  eyes ;  she  saw  the  years  of  toil  without  the 
reward  that  is  woman's  right — the  love  of  chil 
dren,  husband,  a  home  to  call  her  own.  And  yet 
those  years  had  left  no  scar  upon  her  soul,  no 
rancor  against  the  world  that  had  taken  all  and 
given  nothing  except  the  right  to  live. 

A  log  dropped  into  the  fire  and  Drusilla  awak 
ened  from  her  revery  with  a  start.  Her  eyes 
felt  heavy  and  she  rose  to  go  to  the  bedroom; 
then  remembered  that  she  was  told  to  ring  when 
she  wished  to  go  to  bed.  She  rang  the  bell  and 
the  maid  came  into  the  room. 


40        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Madame  desires  to  retire?" 

Drusilla  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"What  did  Miss  Thornton  say  your  name 
was?" 

"Jeanne,  Madame." 

"Jeanne.     That  isn't  Jane,  is  it?" 

"It  may  be  French  for  Jane;  I  am  French." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  call  you  Jane.  I  can't  re 
member  the  other.  I  think  I  would  like  to  go  to 
bed." 

"Then  I  will  prepare  the  bath." 

Soon  she  returned  to  the  room. 

"The  bath  is  ready  for  Madame,"  she  said;  and 
Drusilla  followed  her  into  the  bedroom. 

There  the  thoughtfulness  of  Miss  Thornton 
was  again  shown.  Over  a  chair  hung  a  warm 
gray  dressing-gown,  with  slippers  to  match,  and 
neatly  folded  on  the  bed  was  a  soft  white  night 
dress,  lace-trimmed,  delicate,  dainty,  the  mere 
touch  of  which  gave  delight  to  the  sensitive  fin 
gers  as  they  touched  its  folds. 

The  bathroom,  with  its  silver  fittings,  was  a 
revelation  to  Drusilla;  and  as  she  stepped  into 
the  warm,  slightly  perfumed  water,  it  seemed  to 
speak  to  her  more  eloquently  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  seeming  miracles  that  were  now  coming  into 
her  life. 

When  Drusilla  returned  to  the  bedroom  she 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         41 

found  a  shaded  light  on  a  table  at  the  head  of  the 
bed,  and  beside  the  light  were  her  Bible  and  the 
life  of  John  Calvin. 

She  stood  a  moment  looking  around  the  room, 
and  then  she  knelt  beside  the  bed. 

"O  God,"  she  whispered,  "I  hain't  never  had 
much  to  thank  you  for  except  for  strength  to 
work,  but  now — dear  God,  I  thank  you!" 


CHAPTER  III 

next  morning  Drusilla  found  herself 
JL  unconsciously  waiting  for  the  rising  bell 
that  called  the  inmates  of  the  Doane  home  from 
their  slumbers,  and  when  she  opened  her  eyes  she 
could  not  realize  for  a  moment  where  she  was. 
Instead  of  the  plain  white  walls  of  her  room, 
she  saw  the  soft  gray  tints  of  silk  and  the  sheen 
of  silver,  and  her  hands  touched  a  silken-covered 
eiderdown  quilt.  She  closed  her  eyes  in  sheer 
happiness,  and  then  opened  them  again  to  be 
sure  that  it  was  not  all  a  mirage.  At  last,  not 
being  used  to  lying  in  bed,  she  arose  and,  putting 
on  the  dressing-gown,  went  to  one  of  the  win 
dows  and  raised  the  shade  to  look  out.  She 
stopped  with  her  hand  still  on  the  shade,  looking 
in  wonder  at  the  beauty  just  outside  her  window. 
A  great  copper  beach  was  flaunting  its  gorgeous 
colors  in  the  clear  morning  air ;  beyond  it  a  clump 
of  blue  spruce  seemed  a  background  for  the  riot 
ous  autumn  tints.  At  one  side  of  the  house  was 
an  Italian  garden,  with  terrace  after  terrace  fall 
ing  toward  the  river.  Across  the  river,  the  Pal- 

42 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         43 

isades  rose  sheer  and  steep,  their  reddish-brown 
rocks  covered  with  the  glow  of  the  morning  sun. 

Drusilla  did  not  know  it,  but  she  was  looking 
at  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  many  beauti 
ful  places  along  the  Hudson,  a  place  on  which 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  had  been  spent 
with  a  lavish  hand.  Drusilla  drew  up  a  chair 
and  sat  by  the  window,  watching  the  changing 
shades  as  the  sun  became  brighter.  Then  she 
became  interested  in  the  life  of  the  place  as  it 
gradually  awoke  to  its  morning's  work.  First 
a  gardener  crossed  the  lawn  and  began  working 
around  the  plants ;  then  another  came  with  a  rake 
and  commenced  raking  up  the  dying  leaves;  an 
other  man  wandered  dowrn  toward  the  river.  A 
man,  evidently  a  house  servant,  came  across  the 
lawn  and,  seeing  her  at  the  window,  went  hastily 
into  the  house.  Soon  there  was  a  light  knock  at 
the  door,  and  in  answer  to  her  "come  in,"  Jeanne, 
the  maid,  entered. 

"Oh,  Madame,"  she  said,  "why  did  you  not 
ring?  I  did  not  know  you  were  up." 

She  bustled  about  the  room,  raising  shades, 
and  then  rang  for  a  man  to  come  and  make  the 
fire  in  the  grate.  The  house  seemed  warm  to 
Drusilla. 

"Do  I  need  a  fire?"  she  asked.  "It's  warm  in 
here." 


44        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Just  a  little  fire,  Madame,"  said  Jeanne;  "it 
makes  the  room  more  cheerful." 

Drusilla  laughed.  It  seemed  to  her  that  noth 
ing  could  make  that  exquisite  room  more  cheer 
ful. 

The  maid  went  to  the  bedroom  and  soon  re 
turned  to  announce:  "The  bath  is  ready  for 
Madame." 

Drusilla  wondered  why  she  was  expected  to 
take  another  bath,  as  she  had  had  one  the  night 
before.  But  evidently  it  was  expected  of  her, 
and  she  went  into  the  bathroom  and  again  reveled 
in  the  warm,  perfumed  water.  When  she  re 
turned  to  the  bedroom  her  clothing  of  the  night 
before  was  arranged  ready  for  her  to  put  on,  and 
as  she  dressed  she  felt  for  the  first  time  the 
coarseness  of  the  linen  and  the  ugliness  of  the 
plain  black  dress. 

"Would  Madame  like  her  breakfast  here,"  the 
maid  asked,  "or  will  she  go  to  the  breakfast 
room?" 

Drusilla  hesitated,  as  she  did  not  know  what 
to  do. 

"I  think  Madame  would  like  to  go  to  the  break 
fast  room,"  the  clever  little  French  woman  said 
hastily;  "it  is  very  pretty  there,  with  the  flowers 
and  the  birds.  I  will  show  Madame  the  way." 

Going  before  her  she  guided  Drusilla  down  the 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         45 

great  staircase  and  across  a  room  that  was  evi 
dently  the  dining-room,  into  what  Drusilla  would 
have  called  a  sun-parlor.  It  was  a  corner  of 
the  veranda  enclosed  in  glass  and  filled  with  flow 
ers  and  plants  of  every  description,  with  birds 
singing  among  them  in  their  gilded  cages,  and 
from  it  the  Hudson  could  be  seen,  flowing  si 
lently  to  the  sea.  In  the  center  of  the  room  was 
a  round  table  covered  with  a  cloth  which  quickly 
caught  her  eye  and  charmed  it  with  its  dainty 
embroidery  and  lace,  used  as  she  had  been  to  the 
coarse  linen  of  the  home.  A  man  drew  out  her 
chair  and  she  was  seated,  a  footstool  found  for 
her  feet,  and  breakfast  was  served.  Drusilla  felt 
that  she  could  never  forget  that  breakfast.  The 
grapefruit,  the  coffee  in  its  silver  pot,  the  crisp 
bacon,  the  omelet,  all  served  on  beautiful  dishes; 
and,  to  complete  her  joy,  a  great  Persian  cat  came 
lazily  to  her  and  rubbed  against  her,  begging  for 
a  share  in  the  good  things  of  the  table.  She 
stooped  down  and  stroked  its  soft  fur. 

"I  am  afraid  that  Nicodemus  is  very  spoiled," 
the  man  said.  "His  master  always  gave  him  a 
dish  of  cream  at  the  table." 

Drusilla  laughed.  It  seemed  the  first  human 
thing  she  had  heard. 

"Well,  then,  I'll  spoil  him  too.  What  do  you 
give  it  to  him  in?" 


46 

The  man  pointed  to  a  silver  bowl. 

"That  is  his  dish.     Shall  I  give  it  to  him?" 

"No;  let  me,"  said  Drusilla.  "I  want  to  do 
something  for  some  one.  Let  me  give  him  his 
cream." 

After  that  she  did  not  feel  so  frightened  and 
awed  by  the  presence  of  the  man  who  waited 
upon  her  so  deftly,  and  when  he  left  she  rose  and 
wandered  around  the  room,  looking  at  the  flow 
ers,  wondering  what  were  the  names  of  the  many 
plants  that  were  strange  to  her.  Then  she  went 
across  the  dining-room  and  up  the  stairs  to  her 
own  rooms,  where  she  felt  more  at  ease.  She 
found  them  already  arranged,  and  wondered  at 
the  quickness  and  silence  with  which  the  work 
was  done. 

She  did  not  know  what  to  do,  so  she  sat  down 
again  by  the  window  to  wait  for  Daphne.  While 
she  was  sitting  there,  the  housekeeper  came  into 
the  room. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Doane,"  she  said  pleas 
antly.  "I  hope  you  slept  well." 

"Yes;  thank  you,"  replied  Drusilla. 

" Would  you  like  to  go  over  the  house  this 
morning?" 

Again  Drusilla  was  embarrassed,  as  she  did  not 
know  what  would  be  expected  of  her  if  she  went 
over  the  house.  "Why — why — "  she  said,  "I 


47 

think,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  will  wait  until  Miss 
Thornton  comes." 

"Very  well.     I  will  be  ready  at  any  time." 

When  the  housekeeper  left  the  room,  Drusilla 
sat  quietly  in  her  place  by  the  sunny  window  un 
til  at  last  she  saw  a  motor  turn  into  the  grounds, 
and  soon  Daphne  appeared.  Drusilla's  face 
lighted  up  when  she  saw  the  pretty  girl  standing 
before  her.  She  seemed  a  part  of  the  morning 
itself,  with  her  sparkling  eyes,  her  dainty  coloring 
accentuated  by  her  pretty  suit  of  blue  and  her 
jaunty  hat. 

"Oh,  you  look  like  one  of  the  flowers !"  Drusilla 
exclaimed,  reaching  out  her  hands  to  her. 

"How  nice  of  you  to  say  that!  I've  come 
early;  did  you  wait  long  for  me?" 

"Yes;  I  have  been  settin'  here  just  seeing  the 
beauty  of  it  all.  I  can't  believe  it's  real." 

"Oh,  but  it  is.  And  isn't  it  beautiful!  I  al 
ways  loved  the  place.  Did  you  sleep  well? 
Were  you  tired  out?  Are  you  rested?" 

"I  didn't  sleep  at  first— I  couldn't.  But  I'm 
not  tired;  I'm  just  sort  of  excited — and — and — 
oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  say  about  it  all." 

"Well,  if  you  are  not  tired,  would  you  like  to 
go  over  the  house  ?  It's  a  lovely  house.  I  know 
Mrs.  Perrine  wants  to  show  it  to  you  and  let  you 
see  what  a  wonderful  housekeeper  she  is." 


48 

"Yes;  she  asked  me  to  go  with  her,  but  I 
wanted  to  wait  until  you  come — as — as  I  might 
not  know  what  to  say." 

"Well,  we'll  go  together;  and  don't  you  worry 
about  saying  anything  if  you  don't  want  to.  I 
talk  enough  for  both  of  us.  That's  my  trouble, 
Father  says — I  talk  too  much.  Come — Mrs. 
Perrine  is  downstairs." 

They  went  from  room  to  room,  from  drawing- 
room  to  library,  to  the  picture  gallery  in  which, 
had  Drusilla  known  it,  were  some  of  the  famous 
pictures  of  the  world,  and  on  to  the  great  armor 
room,  in  which  the  former  master  of  the  house 
had  searched  the  countries  of  the  old  world  for 
the  armor  and  accouterments  of  chivalry  which 
were  arranged  around  the  walls.  Then  she  was 
shown  that  which  interested  her  more  than  the 
pictures  or  the  armor — the  pantries  and  the  room 
in  which  were  kept  the  china  and  silver  in  daily 
use;  and  the  kitchen,  with  its  array  of  cooking 
utensils,  brought  a  look  of  delight  into  her  old 
eyes,  because  these  she  could  understand. 

Finally  she  was  taken  upstairs  again  and 
shown  the  guest  rooms,  each  with  its  dressing- 
room  and  bath,  and  then  opposite  to  her  own  suite 
of  rooms  she  was  taken  into  a  small  library 
paneled  in  soft  toned  woods.  Daphne  pulled 
out  a  leather  chair  for  Drusilla. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         49 

"Now  sit  in  that  and  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  it  all.  Isn't  this  a  pretty  room?  I  like  it  best 
of  all  except  your  sitting-room,  and  isn't  that 
a  wonderful  fireplace?  It  was  brought  from 
somewhere  abroad.  It  is  cozy  here  at  night 
when  the  curtains  are  drawn.  I  think  this  room 
looks  human;  those  big  rooms  downstairs  don't. 
I  could  never  curl  up  in  a  chair  and  read  in  that 
great  library  downstairs,  but  here  you  can  really 
find  a  novel  and  read  in  comfort.  I  know  you'll 
spend  lots  of  time  in  this  room." 

Drusilla  was  quiet,  sitting  with  folded  hands. 
Then,  after  a  few  moments,  she  said : 

"I  was  just  a-thinkin'  that  all  this  great  house 
can't  be  for  just  one  old  woman.  And  all  them 
dishes  and  the  kitchen  with  them  pots  and  pans 
and  the  cook  can't  be  there  just  to  cook  for  me 
alone?" 

"Oh,  but  he  is,  and  he's  a  wonderful  cook. 
Mr.  Doane  has  had  him  for  years  and  years. 
And  James,  the  butler,  came  with  him  from 
England.  He  was  in  the  house  of  a  duke  over 
there,  and  I  assure  you,  Miss  Doane,  he  doesn't 
forget  it." 

"Is  that  the  man  who  stands  around  as  if  he 
was  afraid  he'd  hurt  something  if  he  teched  it? 
I  ain't  seen  him  do  much;  another  man  gave  me 
my  breakfast." 


50 

"Yes,  I  presume  William,  the  second  man, 
gave  you  your  breakfast.  James  is  too  grand  to 
serve  breakfast." 

"Do  I  need  so  many  men  around?" 

"Xo,  I  really  don't  suppose  you  do,  Miss 
Doane;  but  Mr.  Doane  kept  a  big  household  and 
he  left  in  his  will  that  the  house  should  be  kept 
up  exactly  the  same  as  when  he  was  here.  But 
don't  you  worry  about  that.  That  is  father's 
business.  You  don't  have  to  bother  a  bit  about 
it.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  enjoy  yourself. 
Now,  what  would  you  like  to  do?  Is  there  any 
thing  you  want?" 

Drusilla  looked  at  her  a  moment  and  then  said, 
half  laughingly,  half  apologetically: 

"I'd  like— I'd  like—" 

She  stopped,  and  Daphne  came  over  to  her. 

"What  would  you  like,  Miss  Doane?  I'm 
here  to  do  anything  you  wish." 

"You  won't  think  I'm  a  vain  old  woman  if  I 
tell  you?" 

"Why,  certainly  not.     Tell  me." 

"Well — well — I  was  thinkin'  this  mornin' 
when  I  dressed  that  I  didn't  seem  to  fit  in  with 
the  house.  When  I  saw  my  pretty  gray  room, 
all  so  light  and — and — beautiful — and  when  I 
saw  myself  in  the  lookin'-glass  with  my  old  black 
dress,  I  thought — I  wished — " 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        51 

"Yes,  Miss  Doane;  what  did  you  wish?" 

Drusilla  flushed  as  if  ashamed  of  her  wishes 
that  seemed  to  her  scarcely  befitting  a  woman  of 
her  age. 

"I  just  wished  I  had  pretty  clothes  to  go  with 
the  room." 

Daphne  clapped  her  hands. 

"Now,  isn't  that  lovely!  Of  course  you  should 
have  pretty  clothes,  and  you  shall!  We  will  go 
shopping!  Father  said  to  do  anything  you 
wanted  to  do.  Now,  what  would  you  like?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'd — I'd  just  like  pretty 
clothes." 

Daphne  jumped  up  and  danced  around  the 
room. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  she  said  gaily. 
"We'll  go  to  town  and  shop  and  shop  and  shop. 
I'd  love  it,  and  we'll  send  all  the  bills  to  Father. 
He  can't  frown  or  scold  as  he  does  when  /  send 
him  bills;  he'll  have  to  pay  yours  without  a 
word.  Oh,  we'll  go  right  away!" 

"I'd  love  to  go,  Miss  Thornton.  I  never 
really  shopped  in  my  life.  I  jest  bought  things 
I  had  to  have,  things  I  couldn't  go  without  no 
longer."  Drusilla  rose,  as  pleased  with  the  idea 
as  was  the  young  girl  beside  her.  "Can  we  go 
right  away?" 

"Yes ;  but  wait,  you  must  eat  something." 


52        DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

"But  I  jest  had  my  breakfast." 

"Yes;  but  you  must  have  something  now,  or 
you'll  get  tired.  I'll  have  them  bring  you  some 
chicken  broth  or  something,  and  I'll  have  some 
too.  I  can  always  eat." 

She  danced  over  to  the  bell,  and  when  Jeanne 
answered  it  she  said: 

"Tell  James  to  bring  some  chicken  broth  and 
some  sandwiches;  and  have  the  small  car  at  the 
door  in  half  an  hour.  And  please  tell  my  chauf 
feur  to  return  home  and  tell  Mother  that  I  will 
not  be  home  for  lunch." 

When  Jeanne  was  gone  she  danced  back  to 
Drusilla. 

"We'll  make  a  day  of  it,  Miss  Doane,  and  we'll 
have  the  loveliest  timer 

The  lunch  was  served  and  then  the  ugly  bonnet 
was  tied  on,  the  mantle  wrapped  around  the  thin 
shoulders,  and  Drusilla  and  Daphne"  started  for 
that  joyland  of  women — Fifth  Avenue. 

"We'll  go  first  and  get  some  things  that  are 
already  made,"  Daphne  said. 

She  took  Drusilla  to  one  of  the  exclusive  shops 
on  Fifth  Avenue.  If  Daphne  had  not  been 
known,  slight  courtesy  would  have  been  shown 
the  shabbily  dressed  old  woman,  but  a  few  words 
from  Daphne  and  the  salesladies  were  all  smiles 
and  bows,  eager  to  show  their  best.  At  first  they 


53 

showed  her  black  dresses;  but  at  Drusilla's  little 
look  of  distress,  quick  Daphne  saw  there  was 
something  wrong. 

"Don't  you  like  them,  Miss  Doane?" 

"Yes — yes — they're  beautiful,  Miss  Thornton, 
but — do  I  have  to  wear  black?  I've  worn  it  all 
my  life  because  it  wears  well.  I'd  like — I'd 
like—" 

"Tell  me  what  you  would  like." 

"I'd  like  a  soft  gray  dress  like  my  room,  if  I 
ain't  too  old.  But — but — perhaps  it  wouldn't  be 
fittin'." 

"That's  just  the  thing!  Why  didn't  I  think 
of  that !  Gray  will  be  just  the  color  for  you ;  and 
with  a  touch  of  blue,  and  your  white  hair  — 
Oh,  you'll  be  lovely,  Miss  Doane." 

Again  the  willing  salesladies  were  given  their 
instructions,  and  gray  dresses  and  gray  suits 
were  placed  before  her.  Drusilla  passed  over  the 
suits  with  hardly  a  look,  but  fingered  lovingly  the 
soft  crepes  and  chiffons. 

"I  don't  like  the  heavy  things,"  she  said. 
"They  look  as  if  they'd  turn  well,  and  I  don't 
want  nothin'  that  can  be  turned.  I'd  like  some 
thing  that'll  wear  out." 

Daphne  laughed. 

"You're  just  like  me.  I  hate  things  that  wear 
forever.  Father  says  that's  the  cause  of  the  high 


54        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

cost  of  living — we  women  don't  buy  sensible 
clothes." 

Drusilla  looked  pained. 

"Perhaps  I  shouldn't  look  at  them  then — " 

Daphne  interrupted  her. 

"You  just  buy  what  you  want.  Don't  you 
worry  about  what  Father  thinks.  I  don't." 

"But  I — I — don't  want  to  be  extravagant." 

"You  can't  be  extravagant.  You  can't  spend 
too  much.  J\TOW,  don't  you  think  about  it — and 
don't  you  ask  how  much  they  cost.  You  don't 
need  to  know.  Just  you  buy  the  prettiest  things 
they've  got." 

Finally  a  choice  was  made  of  two  pretty  soft 
gray  dresses,  fragile  enough  to  suit  even  Daph 
ne's  luxurious  tastes;  arrangements  were  made 
in.regard  to  their  hurried  alterations;  and,  after 
buying  a  wrap  to  replace  the  now  discarded 
mantle,  they  departed,  Drusilla  as  happy  as  a 
child,  with  a  flush  on  her  old  cheeks  and  a 
strange  happy  light  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"Now  we  must  have  things  to  go  with  them." 

They  went  into  a  lingerie  shop,  where  Drusilla 
was  dazed  by  the  piles  of  dainty  underclothing 
that  were  spread  before  her.  She  caressed  the 
soft  laces  and  the  delicate,  cobweb  affairs. 

"Oh,  Miss  Thornton,  I  can't  decide.     I  didn't 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         55 

know  there  was  such  beautiful  things  in  the 
world!  Had  I  ought  to  have  'em?  Ain't  they 
too  young  for  me?" 

"There  is  no  age  for  underclothing.  Don't 
you  want  them?  Isn't  that  the  loveliest  night 
gown?  Don't  you  want  it?" 

"Yes,  I'd  like  to  have  it,  but—"  Drusilla 
thought  of  her  two  Canton  flannel  nightdresses 
lying  in  her  little  trunk. 

"Well,  you  shall  have  them.  And  this  fluffy 
gray  dressing-gown — it  is  a  dear.  We  will  take 
that  too ;  and  this  pretty  bed- jacket.  Look  at  the 
embroidery  on  it.  You  must  have  that,  so  if  you 
have  breakfast  in  bed — and  look  at  this  dear  lace 
cap.  When  you  sit  up  in  bed,  with  the  tray  in 
front  of  you,  and  this  little  jacket  on,  and  the 
cap,  with  a  little  of  your  hair  showing  beneath  it, 
why,  you'll  look  nice  enough  to  eat.  Now  we'll 
go  and  buy  stockings,  pretty  gray  silk  ones,  and 
shoes,  and  slippers ;  and  we  mustn't  forget  about 
the  milliner.  I  know  the  loveliest  place;  Ma 
dame  will  know  just  what  to  give  you." 

Drusilla  enjoyed  the  milliner's  the  most  of  all; 
for  there  she  tried  on  hat  after  hat — not  ugly  bon 
nets  but  cleverly  arranged  creations  for  an  old 
lady  that  seemed  to  remove  the  lines  from  her 
face  and  made  her  feel  that  perhaps,  after  all, 


56        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

she  could  take  a  part  and  share  in  the  beautiful 
things  of  this  new  beautiful  world,  instead  of  a 
mere  looker  on. 

At  last  they  were  taken  to  one  of  the  great 
modistes,  a  creator  of  gowns  known  on  two  con 
tinents,  and  Daphne  had  Miss  Doane  wait  in 
a  reception-room  while  she  interviewed  the  great 
lady  herself.  This  arbitrator  of  fashion  came 
smilingly  to  Miss  Doane  and  with  her  keen,  pro 
fessional  eye  saw  her  "possibilities."  She  said 
to  Miss  Thornton: 

"Will  you  leave  it  to  me?  I  will  make  her  the 
gowns  and  she  will  be  pleased." 

Measurements  were  taken  and  orders  given; 
and  when  they  were  again  in  the  motor,  Drusilla 
asked  shyly: 

"What  was  that  last  place,  Miss  Thornton?" 

"That  is  Marcelle,  the  great  dressmaker's 
place.  That  was  Marcelle  herself  who  came  to 
us." 

"Was  that  a  dressmaking  shop?  I  didn't  see 
no  dresses  or  fashion  books." 

"No,  she  doesn't  use  fashion  books.  She 
makes  her  own  fashions." 

"But — but — we  jest  got  two  new  dresses." 

Miss  Thornton  laughed. 

"Oh,  those  are  because  we  were  in  a  hurry. 
Your  dresses  must  be  made.  I  told  her  she  must 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         57 

hurry,  too;  and  her  things  are  beautiful,  Miss 
Doane  You'll  love  yourself  in  them." 

Drusilla  laughed  softly. 

"I'm  afraid  I  love  myself  already.  It  seems 
awful  vain  for  an  old  woman  like  me  to  be  buy 
ing  all  them  pretty  clothes — but — "  and  she 
sighed  like  a  happy  child — ''it's  nice  to  be  vain 
for  once  in  your  life.  It's  just  nice" 

"Of  course  it  is.  All  women  love  pretty 
clothes." 

"Yes;  it  must  be  something  born  inside  of  us, 
'cause  I  don't  know  as  I've  ever  had  such  a  feelin' 
even  when  readin'  the  Bible  as  I  did  when  I  tried 
on  them  hats,  and  bought  them  dresses,  and 
knowed  they  was  mine"  She  was  quiet  for  a 
moment.  "I  wonder  if  Eve  ever  had  the  chance 
to  be  extravagant  in  fig  leaves?" 

"Well,  we've  bought  them,  and  Father's  hair 
will  certainly  turn  gray,  but  he  can't  say  a  word. 
Now  we'll  go  to  lunch.  It's  late;  you  must  be 
hungry.  I'm  glad  we  found  a  coat  that  fitted 
you — that  velvet  is  so  soft  and  pretty.  And 
your  hat — why,  Miss  Doane,  you  won't  know 
yourself!" 

"Is  it  pretty?  It  ought  to  be.  It's  got  ten 
dollars  of  hat  and  thirty  dollars  of  style;  but  I 
don't  care.  I'm  so  happy  that  I'm  afraid  I'll 
cry  and  spoil  it  all." 


58         DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

But  she  did  not  cry  and  she  enjoyed  the 
luncheon  at  the  big  hotel,  and  as  she  ate  she  stole 
shy  glances  in  the  mirror  opposite  that  reflected 
a  transformed  Drusilla  from  the  frightened  little 
woman  who  had  gone  tremblingly  down  the 
steps  of  the  Doane  home  the  day  before. 


CHAPTER  IV 

next  few  days  passed  in  a  whirl  of 
JL  excitement  for  Drusilla.  Dresses  were 
bought  for  her  to  fit,  and  she  went  into  town  with 
Daphne  on  visits  to  the  great  dressmaker,  who 
turned  and  studied  Drusilla  as  gown  after  gown 
was  fitted  to  her  slim,  yet  still  erect  old  figure. 
But  finally  they  were  all  finished  and  great  boxes 
came  to  the  house.  They  were  opened  by 
Jeanne  and  their  treasures  spread  upon  the  chairs 
and  the  bed  to  be  admired  and  fingered  lovingly 
by  Drusilla,  who  took  as  much  joy  in  her  new 
clothes  as  any  girl  with  her  first  trousseau.  Ex 
cept  for  the  Bible  and  the  life  of  John  Calvin  the 
contents  of  the  little  trunk  were  lost,  so  far  as 
Drusilla  was  concerned.  She  became  another 
being,  as,  clothed  in  soft-toned  grays,  her  hair 
dressed  by  the  hand  of  expert  Jeanne,  she  grad 
ually  lost  her  feeling  of  loneliness,  of  being  a  per 
son  apart  from  her  new  life,  and  began  to  move 
with  confidence  amongst  the  treasured  beauties 
of  her  new  home. 

The  pretty  gowns  gave  her  a  feeling  of  respect 

59 


60        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

for  herself  that  she  had  never  experienced  be 
fore,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  felt 
within  herself  a  power.  Her  opinions  were  de 
ferred  to,  her  wishes  carried  out  immediately,  and 
it  seemed  to  her  that  all  the  world  was  trying  to 
give  her  happiness.  It  took  her  many  days  to 
feel  that  she  might  ask  for  service  instead  of  wait 
ing  upon  herself;  but  she  soon  learned  that  the 
many  servants  were  there  for  her  especial  use, 
and  expected  to  be  called  upon  to  render  any  serv 
ice  that  she  required. 

At  first  she  was  embarrassed  when  the  house 
keeper  came  to  her  in  the  mornings  for  orders 
for  the  day,  and  she  confided  to  Daphne  that  she 
didn't  know  what  to  tell  her.  Daphne  inter 
viewed  the  housekeeper  privately  and  then  said 
to  Drusilla,  "I  have  seen  Mrs.  Perrine  and  told 
her  that  she  doesn't  need  to  come  to  you  in  the 
morning,  as  she  understands  what  is  to  be  done. 
If  there  is  anything  special,  you  will  tell  her,  but 
you  are  not  to  be  bothered  with  the  details  of  the 
house  now.  After  a  while,  perhaps,  you  will 
care  to  attend  to  some  of  the  things,  and  tell  her 
what  you  would  like;  but  don't  let  it  worry  you 
until  you  get  used  to  it  all  I  told  the  chef,  too, 
that  he  need  not  send  up  the  menu  for  the  day, 
as  he  did  to  Mr.  Doane." 

Miss  Thornton  could  not  know  how  thankful 


61 

Drusilla  was  for  this  last  order,  as  the  considera 
tion  of  the  menu  had  been  a  great  embarrass 
ment  to  her.  It  was  written  in  French — a 
language  quite  unknown  to  Drusilla — and  al 
though  she  could  not  read  the  names  of  the  mar 
velous  creations  of  the  cook,  the  food  delighted 
her  and  the  quiet,  skilful  service  was  always  a 
wonder.  The  mechanism  of  the  great  household 
seemed  to  move  with  almost  a  machine's  pre 
cision,  and  she  felt  that  she  was  in  a  world  that 
revolved  to  the  order  of  unseen  hands. 

She  had  been  in  her  new  home  but  a  few  days 
when  a  card  was  brought  her,  and  she  read  on 
it:  Thomas  Carney,  The  New  York  Times. 
She  went  to  the  library,  wondering  what  some 
strange  man  could  want  with  her.  She  found 
a  very  quick,  alert  young  man,  with  twinkling 
blue  eyes,  who  rose  to  greet  her.  She  gave 
him  her  hand  and  asked  him  to  be  seated.  He 
sat  down,  and  then  question  after  question  was 
asked  Drusilla.  What  relation  she  was  to  Elias 
Doane?  Had  she  ever  known  him?  How  she 
had  passed  her  life;  the  details  of  the  life  in  the 
Doane  home;  how  many  years  she  had  been 
there?  Her  impressions  of  her  new  home;  what 
she  intended  doing  with  her  million  dollars;  if 
she  had  any  relatives  to  whom  she  would  leave 
her  money?  Was  she  interested  in  charities? 


62        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

Did  she  believe  in  promiscuous  giving,  or  would 
she  help  personally  the  objects  of  her  charity? 

Poor  Drusilla  heard  the  flood  of  questions  in 
amazement,  and  answered  them  quite  frankly; 
and  the  keen  young  newspaper  man  read  much 
between  the  answers  that  showed  the  loneliness  of 
her  life,  her  bewilderment  in  her  new  surround 
ings,  and  he  congratulated  himself  that  he  would 
have  an  article  for  his  Sunday  paper  that  not 
only  would  be  filled  with  facts  but  also  would 
have  "heart  interest." 

When  he  rose  to  go  he  asked  her  if  she  had  a 
photograph  of  herself. 

She  laughed. 

"No,  I  ain't  never  had  my  pictur'  took  since  I 
was  a  young  girl  and  had  it  on  a  tintype." 

Nothing  daunted,  the  young  man  asked  for  it ; 
but  she  had  to  tell  him  that  she  had  lost  it  years 
ago;  and  then  he  asked  if  he  might  take  her 
photograph  as  she  sat  there  in  her  high-backed 
chair.  Drusilla  was  a  little  awed  by  this  very 
confident  young  man,  so  she  sat  still  while  he  took 
her  photograph,  and  then  when  he  was  ready  to 
depart,  she  hesitatingly  said: 

"Young  man,  you  have  asked  me  a  lot  of  ques 
tions.  May  I  ask  you  one?" 

He  laughed. 

"Certainly!     As  many  as  you  want." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         63 

"Well,  why  have  you  asked  me  so  many 
things?" 

"I  represent  the  New  York  Times,  a  news 
paper,  and  we  want  to  tell  the  people  all  about 

you." 

"About  me?  Why  should  they  want  to  know 
about  me?" 

The  man  laughed  again,  pleasantly,  and  said: 

"You  know  we  like  to  know  about  our  neigh 
bors,  and  you  are  the  newest  neighbor." 

"But  are  you  going  to  write  all  I  said?" 

"Well,  nearly  all;  but,  Miss  Doane,  if  there  is 
anything  you  don't  want  written,  I'll  cut  it." 

Drusilla  was  embarrassed. 

"Have  I  said  anything  that  I  shouldn't?  If 
I  had  known  you  was  from  a  paper,  I'd  'a'  waited 
until  Mr.  Thornton  come." 

"I'm  jolly  glad  you  didn't.  Little  copy  could 
have  been  squeezed  from  that  old  lawyer.  But 
don't  you  worry,  Miss  Doane.  There  won't  be 
anything  that  will  hurt  you.  It's  kind  of  you  to 
see  me.  I  have  been  trying  for  several  days  to 
get  in,  but  couldn't  get  past  that  butler  of  yours. 
He  sure  is  a  wonder." 

"Did  the  butler  stop  you?" 

"Well,  yes;  he  stood  at  the  door  like  an  ar 
mored  cruiser.  I  wouldn't  have  made  it  to-day 
if  I  hadn't  waited  until  I  saw  him  go  out.  I 


64        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

knew  the  second  man  was  at  his  home  and  only 
a  maid  in  charge  of  you." 

Drusilla  was  unhappy. 

"Perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  seen  you.  It  must 
have  been  Mr.  Thornton's  orders,  and  he  knows 
what  is  best  for  me." 

She  crossed  over  to  the  young  man  and  looked 
rather  pitifully  up  into  his  face. 

"You  look  like  a  nice  young  man,"  she  said; 
"I  like  your  eyes.  You  won't  say  nothing  that'll 
make  Mr.  Thornton  unhappy?" 

The  reporter  took  the  half-outstretched  hand 
and  smiled  down  into  the  kindly,  wrinkled  face. 
When  he  spoke  there  was  almost  a  touch  of 
tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"I  don't  care  about  making  Mr.  Thornton  un 
happy,  Miss  Doane,  but  I  wouldn't  do  anything 
to  make  you  unhappy  for  the  world ;  and  if  you 
ever  want  anything  of  the  papers,  here  is  my 
card.  Just  you  send  for  me  and  I'll  do  anything 
for  you  that  I  can." 

And  so  ended  Drusilla's  first  interview. 

To  her  amazement  the  next  Sunday  there  was 
spread  before  her  the  paper  with  great  headlines : 
Miss  DRUSILLA  DOANE,  OUR  NEWEST  MILLION 
AIRE.  There  was  the  picture  of  the  Doane 
home  for  old  ladies;  there  were  pictures  of  the 
home  at  Brookvale  taken  from  many  angles,  pic- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         65 

tures  of  the  garden,  the  conservatories;  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  page  there  was  Drusilla  herself, 
sitting  in  the  high-backed  chair.  The  article 
was  well  written,  filled  with  "heart  interest."  It 
told  of  her  early  struggles,  her  years  of  work, 
and  her  later  life  in  the  charity  home.  Evi 
dently  the  young  man  had  visited  the  village 
where  she  had  lived  and  talked  with  all  who 
knew  her;  and  Mrs.  Smith's  hand  could  plainly 
be  seen  in  the  account  of  the  life  of  the  inmates 
of  the  institution  over  which  she  had  charge. 
Even  poor  old  Barbara  had  been  called  upon  to 
tell  about  Drusilla,  the  many  little  acts  of  kind 
ness  which  she  had  done  for  the  poor  and  lonely. 
As  Drusilla  read  it  she  laughed  and  said, 
"Well,  I  guess  Barbara  had  her  teeth  in  that 
day."  The  article  ended  with  the  account  of  the 
million  dollar  bequest,  and  suggested  that  quite 
likely  the  charities  of  New  York  would  benefit 
by  the  newest  acquisition  to  the  ranks  of  its  mil 
lionaires,  as  Miss  Doane  was  alone  in  the  world, 
and  had  no  one  on  whom  to  lavish  her  enormous 
income  or  to  leave  the  money  when  she  was  called 
to  the  other  world. 

Drusilla  did  not  know  it,  but  this  last  addition 
of  the  facile  reporter's  pen  set  many  heads  of 
institutions  to  thinking,  and  caused  many  a  per 
son  to  wonder  how  they  could  gain  the  affections 


66        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

or  the  pity  of  this  old  lady,  and  separate  her  from 
at  least  a  part  of  her  new-found  inheritance. 

Drusilla  passed  many  hours  among  the  flowers 
in  the  conservatories,  where  she  won  the  heart  of 
the  gardener  by  the  keen  interest  she  took  in  his 
work.  He  would  walk  around  with  her  and  tell 
her  the  names  of  the  plants  strange  to  her,  point 
ing  out  their  beauties  and  their  peculiarities. 
He  soon  saw  that  the  orchids  and  the  rare  blooms 
from  foreign  lands  did  not  appeal  to  her  as  did 
the  old-fashioned  flowers  she  knew,  and  they 
made  a  little  bargain  that  in  the  spring  she 
should  have  some  beds  of  mignonette,  phlox, 
verbenas,  and  moss  rose.  One  morning  she 
watched  him  giving  directions  to  one  of  the  un- 
der-gardeners  for  the  potting  of  small  plants  for 
the  spring. 

"Mr.  Donald,"  she  said,  "I  wish  I  could  plant 
somethin'.  It's  been  years  since  I  dug  around 
in  the  earth,  and  I  want  to  plant  somethin'  and 
see  it  grow." 

"That's  easy,  ma'am,"  said  Scotch  Mr.  Don 
ald.  "I'll  fix  a  part  of  the  house  here  and  you 
can  plant  what  you  want  in  it";  and  after  that 
many  mornings  found  Drusilla  pottering  hap 
pily  around  the  conservatory  with  a  trowel, 
planting  seeds  or  "slipping"  plants  as  she  called 
it.  It  gave  her  something  to  do,  and  that  was 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         67 

the  one  thing  she  needed.  She  missed  the  active 
life,  the  "doing  something."  Everything  was 
done  for  her — she  had  no  duties.  She,  who  had 
passed  her  life  in  service  for  others,  here  had 
only  to  mention  a  wish  and  it  was  immediately 
carried  out.  She  was  not  allowed  even  to  look 
after  her  clothing.  As  soon  as  an  article  was 
removed  it  was  whisked  out  of  the  room  and  when 
returned  was  brushed,  mended,  and  ready  for 
use  again. 

One  afternoon  Drusilla  sat  down  by  the  win 
dow  to  mend  a  tear  on  the  bottom  of  her  skirt. 
Jeanne,  coming  into  the  room,  quickly  took  the 
garment  from  her. 

"Madame,  she  must  not  do  that.  Quelle  hor- 
reurl  I  will  attend  to  it  at  once." 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"Can't  I  even  patch  my  dress?"  she  said. 
"Jane,  where  are  my  stockin's?  I  am  sure  there 
must  be  some  darnin'." 

Jeanne  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"Madame  does  not  wear  darned  stockings." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  said  Drusilla.  "Why 
shouldn't  I  wear  darned  stockin's?" 

"Yes,  but  it  would  not  be  au  fait  for  Madame 
to  wear  darned  stockings." 

Drusilla  became  a  little  angry. 

"How    foolish    you    are,    Jane!     I've    wore 


68        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

darned  stockin's  all  my  life.  A  few  darns  don't 
hurt  one  way  or  another.  What  becomes  of  my 
stockin's?  I  saw  a  hole  in  one  the  other  day." 

Jeanne  looked  a  little  embarrassed. 

"Why — why — when  they  become  not  conv en 
able  for  Madame,  I — I  take  them." 

"Oh,"  said  shrewd  Drusilla,  looking  at  Jeanne 
over  her  glasses.  "And  I  presume  you  are  the 
judge  of  when  they  become  'convenablf? — what 
ever  that  means.  But  you'd  better  let  me  tell 
you  when  I  think  they're  ready  to  be  passed  on." 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  the  chair  with  folded 
hands  for  a  few  moments ;  then  she  looked  down 
at  them  as  they  lay  idly  in  her  lap. 

"I  don't  see  what  I'm  goin'  to  do  with  my 
hands.  I've  always  had  a  work-basket  by  my 
side  whenever  I  set  down,  and  now  you  just  ex 
pect  me  to  set.  Well,  I'm  tired  of  it;  I  want  to 
do  something." 

A  few  of  the  neighbors,  headed  by  Mrs.  Thorn 
ton,  the  typical  New  York  woman  devoted  to 
"society,"  made  calls  upon  Dmsilla;  and  when 
the  first  caller's  card  was  brought  to  Drusilla,  she 
went  into  the  drawing-room  and  greeted  the  sty 
lishly  dressed  lady  who  rose  to  meet  her,  won 
dering  why  she  had  come.  The  lady  sat  down 
and  talked  to  Drusilla  about  the  weather,  asked 
how  she  liked  Brookvale,  spoke  of  the  opera  sea- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         69 

son  and  of  a  new  singer,  asked  her  if  she  cared  for 
symphonies,  which  Drusilla  thought  at  first  was 
something  to  eat,  mentioned  a  ball  that  was  being 
given  at  Sherry's  that  night  for  charity;  and 
then  departed,  leaving  Drusilla  still  wondering 
why  she  came.  Evidently  she  told  her  friends  of 
her  visit,  as  many  came,  some  from  curiosity  and 
others  from  real  kindliness  and  desire  to  be 
friendly  with  their  newest  neighbor. 

One  day  Daphne  saw  the  cards. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "has  Mrs.  Druer  called,  and 
Mrs.  Cairns,  and  Mrs.  Freeman.  I  am  so  glad. 
You  must  return  the  call." 

"Is  that  a  call?  What  did  they  come  for?  I 
been  wandering  about  it  ever  since  they  come." 

"They  are  your  neighbors." 

"Oh,  is  that  the  way  they  are  neighborly  in  the 
city?  Set  down  and  talk  about  nothing  for  ten 
minutes  and  then  go  home.  Well,  I  don't  see  as 
it's  very  fillin'." 

"They  want  to  get  acquainted." 

"Well,  why  don't  they  stay  a  while  and  git 
acquainted?  We  jest  git  started  to  talkin'  when 
they  go  away.  Where  I  lived  when  a  neighbor 
come  to  see  you,  they  brought  their  sewin'  and 
spent  the  afternoon.  You  can't  git  acquainted 
settin'  opposite  each  other  and  wonderin'  what 
to  say.  Why,  they  all  look  when  they  git  ready 


70        DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

to  go,  'Well,  I've  done  my  duty;  thank  goodness 
it's  over!'  " 

Daphne  laughed. 

"You  must  go  and  return  the  calls." 

"You  mean  that  I  must  go  to  their  houses  and 
do  what  they  done — set  ten  minutes  and  ask  them 
about  the  weather  and  the  opera  and  symphonies  ? 
I  don't  know  nothin'  about  them  things  at  all." 

"You  needn't  ask  them  about  the  opera,  but 
you  must  return  their  calls." 

Drusilla  shook  her  head. 

"No,  I  won't  do  it." 

"Oh,  but  you  must." 

"But  I  won't,  Miss  Thornton,"  said  Drusilla 
obstinately.  "I  don't  know  what  to  say." 

"I'll  go  with  you,  Miss  Doane." 

"Well — "  and  Drusilla  was  a  little  pacified — 
"well,  I'll  go  once  and  see  what  it's  like.  I'll 
do  anything  once,  but  I  won't  promise  to  do  it 
much." 

"Never  mind;  you  must  return  the  first  calls. 
I'll  come  for  you  to-morrow  and  we'll  go.  You 
have  cards — I  had  them  made  for  you;  and  I'll 
bring  my  new  cardcase  No,  I'll  get  you  the 
dearest  bag  I  saw  downtown.  Gray  suede  with 
a  cardcase  and  mirror  in  it,  and  a  pencil  and 
everything  you  need." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        71 

"What  do  I  want  a  mirror  in  my  hand  satchel 
for?" 

"Why  to  powder  your  nose  if  it  gets  shiny, 
Miss  Doane.  You're  not  up  to  date.  You  must 
have  a  vanity  box  in  your  bag  or  you  won't  be 
in  it  at  all  now." 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"You  ain't  forgot  how  vain  I  was  that  first 
day  when  I  peeked  in  all  the  mirrors  at  the  hotel. 
But  now  I  can  pass  one  without  lookin'  in,  if  I 
ain't  got  a  new  dress  on." 

"Speaking  of  dresses,  Miss  Doane,  put  on  that 
dark  gray  velvet  that  Marcelle  made  you  and 
the  hat  with  the  mauve.  Oh,  I  wish  it  were  cold, 
so  you  could  wear  your  new  furs.  But — well — 
they'll  see  them  all  after  a  while.  We  mustn't 
astonish  them  too  much  at  first." 

"Do  I  have  to  fix  up  so  much?" 

"But  I  want  them  to  see  how  pretty  you  are." 

Drusilla  blushed  like  a  girl. 

"Pshaw,  Miss  Thornton,  don't  you  know  I'm 
past  seventy  years  old?  You  shouldn't  say  such 
things." 

"Oh,  but  I  mean  it.  Margaret  Fairchild,  who 
was  here  with  her  mother,  told  the  girls  the  other 
night  at  the  dance  that  she  couldn't  keep  her  eyes 
off  of  you,  as  you  sat  with  the  light  on  your  hair, 


72        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

and  your  pretty  dress  that  was  so  half  old-fash 
ioned  and  half  the  latest  style.  She  said  you 
looked  as  if  you  had  just  stepped  out  of  a  pic 
ture." 

"It's  my  clothes,  I  guess." 

"Yes,  it's  partly  the  clothes,  and  that's  where 
Marcelle  is  clever.  She  makes  the  clothes  suit 
you,  and  doesn't  try  to  make  a  fashionable  mid 
dle-aged  woman  out  of  you.  She  spoke  of  your 
hands  too,  said  they  looked  so — so — sort  of  fem 
inine  as  they  lay  on  the  arms  of  the  chair.  You 
are  clever,  Miss  Doane,  to  always  sit  on  one  of 
those  high-backed  chairs  when  callers  come;  it 
makes  a  lovely  background." 

"Does  it?  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  I  gen 
erally  set  in  the  chair  that's  nearest  the  door ;  and 
I  like  one  with  arms  that  I  can  take  hold  of, 
'cause  it  makes  me  nervous  to  have  the  women 
stare  at  me,  and  sometimes  when  there  is  such  a 
long  time  between  talks,  I  hold  on  to  the  arm 
tight  so's  I  won't  show  I'm  nervous  and  won- 
derin'  what  to  say  to  fill  in.  But  I  didn't  think 
any  one  noticed  my  hands."  She  looked  down  at 
them  rather  sadly.  "They've  always  worked 
hard  and  I  guess  they  show  the  marks." 

"Oh,  your  hands  are  beautiful,  Miss  Doane. 
I  can't  ever  believe  you  have  worked  with  them." 

"Can't  you?     I  never  had  my  hands  idle  in  my 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         73 

lap  in  all  my  life  till  I  come  here.  But — well, 
they  ought  to  have  something  happen  to  'em  the 
way  Jane  works  with  'em.  Whenever  I  let  her 
she's  fussin'  with  my  hands  with  little  sticks  and 
knives,  until  sometimes  I'd  like  to  box  her  ears. 
How  any  one  can  spend  so  much  time  just  set- 
tin'  still  and  lettin'  some  one  fuss  with  their 
hands,  I  don't  see.  But  I  let  her  do  it,  as  I  don't 
have  much  else  to  do  here  but  just  set  still,  and 
she'd  better  fool  with  my  hands  than  spend  her 
time  talkin'  writh  William,  which  she  does  enough 
as  it  is." 

"Oh,  is  Jeanne  flirting?" 

''Now,  I  shouldn't  say  anything.  But  I  can't 
help  seein'  things,  even  if  they  do  think  I'm  an 
old  woman  with  my  eyes  half  shut." 

"I'll  speak  to  Father  about  it." 

"No,  you  won't,  Miss  Thornton.  Leave  her 
alone.  It  ain't  much  company  for  a  young  girl 
like  her  just  to  wait  on  an  old  woman  like  me; 
and  William  seems  a  nice  young  man.  I  like 
him,  Miss  Thornton,  but  I  jest  can't  bear  the 
sight  of  James." 

Daphne  turned  quickly. 

"Has  James  been  impertinent  to  you?" 

Drusilla  shook  her  head. 

"No,  not  at  all.  I  wish  he  would  be  impudent 
or  any  tiling  except  jest  stand  around  and  look 


74         DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

grand.  He  don't  approve  of  me,  Miss  Thorn 
ton — even  his  back  when  he  leaves  the  dining- 
room  says  he  don't  approve  of  me.  I  never  seen 
a  back  that  can  say  so  much  as  his'n." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  like  him  I  will  speak  to 
Father  and  he  will  get  another  butler." 

"No,  don't  do  that.  He  don't  do  nothin'  to 
lose  his  place  for;  and  I'd  hate  to  have  to  git  used 
to  another  back.  He  never  says  a  word,  but  he 
jest  looks;  but  perhaps  he'll  git  over  it,  or  I'll 
git  used  to  it,  or  maybe  when  I  git  more  used  to 
things  I'll  talk  to  him  and  ask  him  if  he  can't  be 
a  little  more  human,  instead  of  lookin'  like  the 
chief  mourner  at  a  funeral.  It  sometimes  makes 
me  feel  that  I'm  dead  and  he's  takin'  the  last 
look." 

Daphne  laughed. 

"Oh,  that's  his  way.  He's  English,  you  know, 
and  English  servants  are  trained  to  look  like 
mummies." 

"Well,  he  certainly  had  good  trainin'.  What 
time  do  we  go  callin'  to-morrow?  I  want  to  git 
it  over." 

"I'll  come  for  you  at  four,  and  I'll  tell  them 
to  have  the  small  car  ready.  Good-by.  I'm  go 
ing  to  a  great  big  tea  where  I  am  to  pour.  I 
love  to  give  tea,  although  I  always  give  the  wrong 
person  lemon." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION        75 

The  next  day  Jeanne,  being  told  that  Drusilla 
was  going  to  call  upon  the  ladies  of  the  neighbor 
hood,  took  extra  care  in  dressing  her;  and  when 
Daphne  came,  Drusilla  was  a  very  richly,  ex 
quisitely  dressed  old  lady  waiting  for  her  car. 
The  bag  delighted  Drusilla  and  she  examined  the 
fittings,  and  looked  at  the  little  vanity  case 
with  its  tiny  powder  puff  and  mirror.  Daphne 
laughed  as  she  saw  her  peep  into  the  mirror. 

"Oh,  Miss  Doane,  you're  just  like  us  all.  We 
can't  pass  a  mirror  without  a  peep." 

Drusilla  said:  "I  wonder  if  we  ever  git  too 
old  not  to  want  to  see  ourselves.  As  long  as  I 
can  have  hats  like  this  one,  I  won't.  Ain't  it 
funny  what  clothes  can  do  for  you.  Now  with 
my  velvet  dress  I  ain't  a  bit  afraid  to  go  in  that 
big  house,  in  the  front  door  and  set  down  in  the 
parlor,  while  if  I  had  on  my  old  black  dress,  I'd 
feel  that  I  belonged  in  the  kitchen.  Yet  it's  the 
same  Drusilla  Doane  inside." 

Drusilla  made  many  calls  that  afternoon.  At 
some  of  the  places,  being  told  that  the  lady  was 
not  at  home,  a  card  was  left. 

"Pshaw  now,"  she  said  to  Daphne,  "will  I  have 
to  come  again,  now  she  ain't  at  home?" 

"No,"  said  Daphne;  "she'll  find  your  cards 
and  know  you  have  called.  That's  all  you  have 
to  do." 


76        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Well,  that's  one  good  thing" — and  Drusilla 
was  relieved  to  find  that  the  disagreeable  duty 
was  so  quickly  done.  "If  I'd  a  knowed  that,  I'd 
a  sent  William  to  tell  me  when  they  was  out  and 
then  I'd  a  come." 

"Oh,  but  you'll  like  your  neighbors  when  you 
know  them.  Here — Mrs.  Crane  is  at  home,  I 
know" — and  Drusilla  spent  a  most  miserable  half 
hour  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  hard  chair,  wishing 
Daphne  would  rise  as  a  signal  to  leave.  Tea  was 
served  by  a  maid,  and  Drusilla  held  the  cup  awk 
wardly,  while  she  ate  the  little  wafer  and  in 
finitesimal  sandwich  which  was  passed  with  it. 

"Why  didn't  they  have  a  table?"  she  asked 
when  they  were  outside.  "I  was  in  mortal  fear 
that  I'd  spill  the  tea  on  my  new  dress — and  I 
don't  eat  well  with  my  gloves  on." 

Two  more  calls  of  the  same  kind  were  made 
and  as  they  were  turning  into  another  gate, 
Drusilla  leaned  forward  and  said  to  the  chauf 
feur:  "Joseph,  go  straight  ahead."  Then, 
turning  to  Daphne,  Drusilla  said:  "We're  goin' 
for  a  ride  now;  we  ain't  goin'  to  spoil  this  lovely 
day  with  no  more  calls." 

Drusilla  would  not  listen  to  Daphne's  remon 
strances,  and  the  motor  flew  along  the  beautiful 
drive  overlooking  the  Hudson.  Drusilla  did  not 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         77 

speak  for  a  time,  simply  enjoying  the  ride. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  girl. 

"Daphne,  what  does  subsidize  mean." 

Daphne  frowned  for  a  moment. 

"I  wonder  if  I  can  tell.  I  know  what  it  means 
but  it  is  hard  to  say  it.  It  means  to  pay  a  certain 
sum  of  money  to  some  one  or  some  thing.  For 
instance,  the  ships  that  carry  the  mails  for  some 
governments  are  subsidized ;  or  if  the  government 
wants  to  aid  some  project,  to  enable  it  to  start, 
it  subsidizes  it — that  is,  gives  it  a  certain  sum  per 
year  like  a  salary.  Have  I  made  myself  clear? 
Father  could  tell  you  better  than  I  can." 

"I  guess  I  see  what  it  is,"  Drusilla  said. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  know?"  queried  Daphne. 

"Well,  I  got  a  little  mixed  up  in  what  it  meant. 
I  got  a  letter  this  morning  from  some  man — 
some  poet  I  guess  he  is — who  said  that  I  should 
leave  my  money  to  subsidize  struggling  poets, 
wrho  had  a  great  message  to  give  the  world,  but 
who  had  to  work  so  hard  making  a  livin'  that  they 
didn't  git  no  chance  to  give  the  message.  I'm 
afraid  I  got  kind  of  mixed  up — I  could  think  of 
nothin'  but  etherize.  I  guess  it  was  the  strugglin' 
that  confused  my  mind,  and  I  been  wondering 
why  I  could  etherize  a  lot  of  struggling  young 
poets.  But  now  I  understand." 


78         DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Well,  of  all  the  impertinence — " 

"I  don't  know,  Daphne;  there's  some  truth  in 
what  he  said.  He  said  that  nations  needed  great 
thoughts  as  well  as  they  needed  great  inventions 
— them's  his  words  not  mine — and  often  rich  men 
subsidized  a  poor  inventor  or  a  poor  scientist  so's 
they  could  have  time  to  make  their  inventions 
and  not  have  to  worry  over  their  daily  bread ;  so 
why  shouldn't  it  be  done  for  the  poets  who  would 
then  have  time  to  give  great  thoughts  to  the  peo 
ple,  thoughts  that  would  inspire  them  to  noble 
deeds  and  works.  There's  a  lot  of  sense  in  what 
he  says." 

"But  you  would  never  think  of  doing  such  a 
thing—" 

"No,  of  course  not;  but  I  like  to  hear  about  it. 
And  I  been  a  studyin'  a  lot  about  that  young 
man, — I  am  sure  he  was  young  or  he  wouldn't 
have  had  the  courage  to  write  me;  it's  only  the 
young  who  have  the  courage  to  try." 

"I  call  it  nerve''  said  Daphne  scornfully; 
"plain  nerve" 

"Yes,  perhaps  it  is.  But  I  was  thinkin'  about 
this  young  man  who  has  got  a  feelin'  inside  of 
him  that  he  could  say  somethin'  that  would  make 
the  world  better,  and  he  tries,  then  he's  got  to  go 
to  an  office  or  somewhere  and  perhaps  count 
rolls  of  cloth,  or  he  may  be  a  newspaper  man  who 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         79 

has  to  write  stories  of  murders  and  divorces  and 
— and — things  like  that,  when  beautiful  things  is 
just  a  chokin'  him." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"It's  an  awful  thing  to  be  poor,  Daphne — real 
poor.  Yet — "  she  said  musingly,  "even  when 
you're  real  poor  you  can  always  find  somethin'  to 
give.  Like  Mis'  Sweet.  Did  I  ever  tell  you 
about  Mis'  Sweet?  She  lived  in  our  village  and 
she  was  mortal  poor  all  her  life.  When  her  hus 
band  lived  he  didn't  do  no  more  work  than  he  had 
to  and  she  had  to  git  along  as  best  she  could,  and 
then  when  he  died  she  lived  with  her  son,  who 
was  so  mean  and  stingy  that  he  made  her  go  to 
bed  at  dark  so's  she  wouldn't  burn  kerosene. 
She  was  so  poor  that  she  never  had  cookies  or 
cakes  to  send  her  neighbors,  and  it  kind  o'  cut  her, 
because  in  the  country  we  was  always  sendin' 
some  little  thing  we'd  been  bakin'  to  each  other, 
because  that's  about  the  only  kind  of  presents 
country  women  can  make  to  each  other,  somethin' 
they  make  themselves. 

"So  Mis'  Sweet  felt  kind  o'  bad  that  she 
couldn't  make  no  return.  But,  as  I  says,  one 
ain't  never  too  poor  but  that  they  kin  give  some 
thing.  Now  Mis'  Sweet  had  nothin'  pretty  in 
her  house,  and  never  saw  much  that  was  beauti 
ful,  but  she  had  beautiful  thoughts  inside,  and  she 


80        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

loved  the  flowers  and  things  that  grew  around  her. 
"Mis'  Sweet  made  paper  flowers  trying  to  say 
the  beautiful  things  she  felt  inside,  jest  like  that 
poet.  She  couldn't  buy  none  of  the  pretty 
crinkled  papers  that  we  see  nowadays ;  she  never 
saw  none  of  those;  but  she  saved  all  the  little 
pieces  of  tissue  paper,  and  any  scrap  of  silk,  and 
the  neighbors  saved  'em  for  her  too,  and  they 
saved  their  broom  wire ;  and  no  one  ever  thought 
of  throwin'  away  an  old  green  window  shade- 
it  was  sent  to  Mis'  Sweet  for  her  leaves.  She 
twisted  the  broom  wires  with  any  piece  of  green 
paper  that  she  could  git  hold  of,  and  she  cut  the 
papers  into  flowers,  the  white  ones  into  daisies 
and  the  little  pieces  of  silk  was  colored  with  dyes 
that  the  neighbors  give  her  that  they  had  left 
over,  and  she  made  roses  and  apple  blossoms  and 
begonias  and  geraniums,  and  all  the  flowers  that 
she  knowed.  If  some  were  peculiar  and  didn't 
look  like  much  o'  anything  she  called  them  jest 
wild  flowers.  She  made  them  all  into  bouquets. 
And  there  wasn't  a  new  baby  born  in  the  village 
but  that  the  mother  found  by  her  bedside  a  bou 
quet  of  Mis'  Sweet's,  and  no  bride  went  to  the 
altar  but  she  had  a  little  piece  o'  orange  blossom 
on  her  that  had  been  lovingly  pinned  on  by  Mis' 
Sweet,  and  before  the  lid  wras  closed  over  our 
dead — they  had  slipped  in  their  fingers  a  little 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         81 

flower  from  their  old  neighbor.  And  do  you 
think  that  we  laughed  at  her  stiff  little  bouquets? 
No !  We  all  loved  'em  and  we  understood,  'cause 
with  each  leaf  made  out  of  our  old  window 
shades  and  from  each  wire  from  our  wore  out 
brooms,  there  was  a  little  love  mixed  in  writh  the 
coverin'." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments;  then  she 
added : 

"And  I  think  that  this  young  poet  will  find  a 
way  to  give  something  to  the  world,  if  he  really 
loves  it  and  wants  to  give,  same  as  Mis'  Sweet 
did." 

They  wrere  returning  home  along  the  drive. 

"We  haven't  made  half  the  calls  that  we 
should,"  Daphne  said.  "We  must  go  another 
day." 

Drusilla  shook  her  head  decisively. 

"]NTo;  I  won't  make  no  more  calls." 

"Oh,  but,  Miss  Doane,  you  must.  You  must 
return  your  calls." 

"Oh,  but  I  mustn't,  and  I  won't,"  said  Drusilla, 
shaking  her  head  obstinately.  "I  most  froze  at 
some  of  them  places,  and  I  won't  risk  it  again. 
I  won't  make  calls.  They  can  come  to  me,  Miss 
Thornton,  but  I  won't  go  back." 

"But  they  won't  come  to  see  you  if  you  don't 
return  the  calls." 


82        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Well,  they  can  stay  at  home  then — it  ain't 
much  loss  on  either  side." 

"But  what  will  you  do?" 

"I'll  send  William  to  know  when  they  are  out, 
and  he  can  leave  my  cards  jest  as  well  as  I  can. 
I  won't  go  into  them  rooms  and  drink  tea  out  of 
my  lap  and  eat  with  my  gloves  on,  and  talk  about 
things  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  and  don't  care 
even  if  I  did.  I'm  too  old  to  begin  such  foolish 
ness." 

"But  what  will  I  tell  them  when  they  ask  why 
you  don't  return  their  calls?" 

"You  can  tell  them  anything  you  want  to.  I 
won't  go." 

Daphne  said  mischievously:  "I'll  say  you  are 
a  very  old  lady,  and  feeble,  and  cannot  take  the 
exertion  of  making  calls." 

Drusilla  sat  up  very  straight  and  a  slight  flush 
appeared  on  her  cheeks. 

"You'll  say  no  such  thing,  Daphne  Thornton. 
You  say  the  truth,  that  I  don't  see  no  sense  in 
it.  Old  indeed!  I'm  not  so  old;  and  as  to  be 
ing  feeble — " 

Daphne  snuggled  her  face  against  the  arm  near 
her. 

"Oh,  you  are  a  dear,  Miss  Doane.  I  love  to 
see  you  get  angry.  But  you  say  you  are  old!" 

"That's    different.     I    say   it   with   my   own 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         83 

meanin',  and  generally  to  get  out  of  doin'  some- 
thin'  I  don't  want  to  do.  But  I'm  growin' 
younger  each  minute.  Perhaps" — she  chuckled 
softly  to  herself — "it's  my  second  childhood." 

They  came  to  the  door,  and  it  was  opened  by 
James — stiff,  correct,  funereal. 

"No,"  almost  groaned  Drusilla;  "there's 
James.  Now  I  know  I'm  dead  and  only  waitin' 
for  the  bury  in'." 


CHAPTER  V 

DRUSILLA  grew  more  and  more  to  feel 
that  she  was  a  part  of  her  little  world, 
where  everything  revolved  around  her  and  her 
wishes  were  law.  It  was  only  natural  that  she 
gained  confidence  in  herself.  She  lost  her  awe 
of  the  servants,  and  even  found  courage  to  speak 
shortly  to  James,  who,  she  learned  from  Jeanne, 
was  relegating  most  of  his  duties  to  William, 
thinking  Miss  Doane  would  not  know  the  dif 
ference. 

But  after  the  excitement  of  the  first  few  weeks 
was  past  she  found  the  time  heavy  on  her  hands. 
She  had  no  duties,  she  did  not  read,  there  was  no 
sewing  nor  mending  for  her,  and  she  could  not 
always  work  in  the  conservatories  among  the  flow 
ers;  consequently  she  began  to  long  for  some 
thing  with  which  to  occupy  her  thoughts  and, 
ahove  all,  her  hands. 

One  morning  when  she  was  wandering  aim 
lessly  around  the  house  she  went  into  the  pastry 
room.  There  she  looked  in  delight  at  all  the 
shining  pans  and  the  bowls  arranged  in  gradu 
ated  sizes  on  their  shelves. 

84 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         85 

"My,  ain't  it  nice,  and  everything  so  handy!" 

She  looked  around  for  a  minute ;  then  a  thought 
began  to  take  shape  in  Drusilla's  mind.  She 
looked  at  the  chef  thoughtfully;  then,  evidently 
deciding,  she  gave  her  head  a  little  toss  and  with 
a  light  laugh  left  the  room,  soon  to  return  with 
a  big  gingham  apron  covering  her  pretty  dress. 
The  chef  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"Cook,"  Drusilla  said,  "I'm  hungry  for  some 
home  cookin'  and  I  want  to  do  it  myself.  I  ain't 
cooked  none  fer  a  good  many  years,  and  my 
fingers  is  jest  itchin'  to  git  into  the  flour. 
Where's  your  flour  and  things  to  make  cake?" 

The  chef  was  shocked. 

"Mais,  Madame." 

"Yes,  Madame  may,  and  she's  goin'  to;  so 
show  me  where  the  things  is."  She  rolled  up  her 
sleeves.  "Now  you  git  me  that  big  yellow  bowl, 
and  give  me  the  lard.  I'm  goin'  to  make  dough 
nuts — fried  cakes  I  used  to  call  'em,  tho'  it's 
more  stylish  to  say  doughnuts  these  days.  I 
don't  like  them  that's  bought  in  the  store  with 
sugar  sprinkled  on  top;  sugar  don't  belong  on 
fried  cakes.  It  takes  away  their  crispiness  and 
you  might  jest  as  well  be  eatin'  cake." 

Drusilla  kept  the  chef  busy  waiting  on  her 
until  she  had  all  the  articles  needed.  Then  she 
turned  upon  him. 


86        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Now,  you  go  away.  Go  up  to  your  room,  or 
down  to  James.  I  don't  want  you  standin' 
round  lookin'  as  if  you  was  goin'  to  bust  every 
minute.  You  got  to  git  used  to  this.  I'm  goin' 
to  have  a  bakin'  day  once  a  week,  same  as  I  did 
for  forty  year." 

Drusilla  spent  a  happy  morning.  The  "fried 
cakes"  finished,  she  decided  to  make  some  cookies 
— the  "old-fashioned  kind  that  my  mother's  sister 
Jane  give  me  the  receipt  of ;  I  kind  o'  want  to  see 
if  I  have  lost  my  hand." 

But  the  hand  had  not  lost  its  cunning  if  the 
great  dish  of  brown,  crisp  doughnuts,  and  the 
cookies  and  the  gingerbread  were  a  test.  After 
they  were  baked  and  in  a  row  on  the  table,  she 
stepped  back  and  surveyed  her  handiwork,  with 
a  proud  expression  on  her  kindly  old  face. 

"Now  if  I  only  had  some  one  to  come  in  and 
say,  'Drusilla,  is  them  fresh  fried  cakes?'  and  I'd 
laugh  and  say,  'Yes;  do  try  'em,'  and  they'd  eat 
three  or  four.  Or  if  I  only  had  some  neigh 
bors—" 

Drusilla  stopped  suddenly. 

"Now,  why  shouldn't  I!  I've  got  neighbors 
that's  all  been  tryin'  to  be  neighborly  to  me  in 
their  way;  why  shouldn't  I  be  neighborly  in  my 
way?  I  can't  be  neighborly  jest  leavin'  a  card, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         87 

or  drinkin'  tea  with  my  gloves  on —  Yes,  I  will ! 
Drusilla  '11  be  neighborly  in  Drusilla's  way." 

She  was  as  delighted  as  a  child  at  the  thought. 
She  hurried  into  the  pantry  and  returned  with 
some  plates  and  napkins.  She  piled  a  few  of  her 
confections  upon  each  plate,  carefully  covered  it 
with  a  napkin,  then  called  William. 

"William,"  she  said,  "you  take  that  plate  o' 
cookies  over  to  Mis'  Gale's,  and  tell  her  that  I 
sent  'em,  bein'  it  was  my  bakin'  day.  See  she 
gets  'em  and  they  don't  stop  in  the  kitchen.  And 
take  that  plate  o'  gingerbread  to  Mis'  Cairns; 
and  them  fried  cakes  to  Mis'  Freeman;  and  tell 
'em  all  I  sent  'em  with  my  love.  Tell  'em  I  made 
'em  myself." 

William  looked  at  her  but  did  not  move. 

"What  you  lookin'  at  me  fer?  Take  'em  as  I 
said.  Put  'em  in  a  basket  if  you  can't  carry  'em, 
or  have  one  of  the  girls  help  you." 

"But,  ma'am,  but — " 

"But  what?  Ain't  you  never  took  cookies  to 
one  before?" 

"Why  —  why  —  no,  ma'am.  Never  in  the 
houses  where  I've  served— 

"Now  that'll  do,  William.  Don't  begin  that. 
That's  what  James  always  says  when  he  specially 
wants  to  be  disagreeable.  If  you  haven't  ever 


88        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

took  a  neighbor  a  plate  o'  cookies  or  some  ginger 
bread,  right  hot  out  of  the  oven,  you've  missed  a 
lot.  So  do  as  I  say!" 

"But — ma'am — I'm  sure  they  have  all  the 
cakes  they  need.  Mr.  Cairns  is  a — very — very 
rich  man,  and  they  have  a  cook,  a  French  cook. 
Why,  he  has  an  income  of  more  than  a  million 
dollars  a  year,  and — and — " 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  over  her  glasses. 

"Land  o'  Goshen,  has  he?  That's  a  heap  o' 
money;  but  I'm  sure  that  if  he  has  a  French  cook 
like  mine,  he'll  be  mighty  glad  to  have  an  old- 
fashioned  fried  cake;  so  take  that  plate  to  him 
too,  and  I'll  fix  another  for  Mis'  Freeman.  He 
ain't  never  sence  he  was  a  boy  set  his  teeth  in  bet 
ter  fried  cakes.  Perhaps  the  cookies  won't  be  so 
much  to  his  taste ;  but  you  tell  'em  they're  nice  f  er 
the  children  to  slip  in  their  apron  pockets  to  eat  at 
recess." 

William  executed  his  errand,  although  with  a 
feeling  that  the  dignity  of  the  place  was  not  be 
ing  upheld.  There  was  a  luncheon  party  at  the 
Cairns  mansion,  and  when  the  butler  brought  in 
the  plate  of  cookies  and  the  doughnuts  and  de 
livered  the  message,  trying  his  best  not  to  smile, 
Mrs.  Cairns  looked  at  them  in  dismay. 

"What  did  you  say,  John?" 

"Miss  Doane  sent  them  to  you  with  her  love. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         89 

She  said  that  it  was  her  baking  day,  and  that  she 
had  made  them  herself.  The  cookies  are  for  the 
children  to  slip  in  their  apron  pockets  and  eat 
at  recess,"  recited  the  butler  with  an  immobile 
face. 

Mrs.  Cairns  raised  the  napkins  and  surveyed 
the  cakes ;  then  she  looked  at  her  husband  and  her 
guests.  They  laughed;  that  is,  the  guests  did, 
but  not  Mr.  Cairns. 

"Take  them  to  the  kitchen,  John,"  Mrs. 
Cairns  ordered.  "The  servants  may  have  them." 

"No;  bring  them  here,  John,"  Mr.  Cairns  said 
sharply.  "You  may  go  and  say  that  Mrs.  Cairns 
thanks  Miss  Doane  very  much  for  her  thought- 
fulness  in  remembering  her  on  her  baking  day, 
and  that  she  is  sure  she  will  enjoy  the  doughnuts 
— and  the  cookies  will  be  given  to  the  children." 

The  servant  left  the  room,  and  Mr.  Cairns  sat 
very  quietly  looking  at  the  plates  before  him. 
He  took  up  one  of  the  doughnuts,  studied  it,  then 
finally  took  a  bite  of  it. 

"Hot,"  he  said,  "and  crispy." 

He  was  quiet  a  moment,  with  a  far  away  look 
in  his  eye;  then,  as  if  noticing  the  silence  of  his 
guests,  he  said  with  a  quiet  laugh: 

"It  takes  me  back — back —  Bless  her  old 
soul!  I  understand.  And  it  takes  me  back — 
and — well,  I'm  a  boy  again  and  I  can  see  Mother 


90         DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

standing  over  the  stove,  and  I  can  smell  the  hot 
cakes  when  I  come  in  from  school,  and  hear  her 
say,  ' Jimmie,  take  your  hands  out  of  that  crock ! 
No,  you  can't  have  but  one.  Well,  two,  but  no 
more.  Now  take  that  plate  over  to  Mis'  Fisher 
and  that  one  to  Miss  Corbin — ' ' 

He  was  quiet  again  for  a  few  moments ;  then, 
as  if  coming  back  to  the  world  beside  him,  he  said 
in  his  usual  even  tones : 

"Shall  we  go  into  the  library?" 

And  the  guests  did  not  laugh  again. 

Drusilla  was  neighborly  in  other  ways  besides 
that  of  sending  cakes  and  cookies  on  her  baking 
day.  One  day  she  heard  that  Mrs.  Beaumont, 
wrho  lived  in  the  first  house  below  her,  was  ill. 
"She  has  a  bad  cold,"  Miss  Lee  told  her,  "and 
they  are  afraid  it  might  develop  into  pneumonia. 
But,  between  you  and  me,  she's  just  bored  to 
death  and  doesn't  have  enough  to  interest  her." 

As  soon  as  her  visitor  left,  Drusilla  went  up 
stairs,  and  came  down  with  a  little  package  in  her 
hand  and  an  old-fashioned  sunbonnet  on  her  head. 
She  went  out  of  the  gate  and  down  the  road  until 
she  came  to  the  great  gates  that  guarded  the 
home  of  the  multi-millionaire  who  lived  there. 

She  was  told  at  the  door  that  Mrs.  Beaumont 
was  not  receiving,  but  she  told  the  man  to  tell  his 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION         91 

mistress  that  she  had  something  special  for  her 
and  would  not  detain  her  but  a  moment.  The 
man  rather  unwillingly  took  her  message,  and 
returning  in  a  few  moments  conducted  Drusilla 
into  a  luxurious  bedroom,  where  a  very  beautiful 
woman  was  lying  upon  a  chaise  lounge,  dressed 
in  an  elaborate  peignoir,  her  hair  covered  by  a 
marvelous  creation  that  went  by  the  name  of 
boudoir  cap.  She  languidly  gave  her  hand  to 
Drusilla. 

"You  want  to  see  me?"  she  murmured  in  a  low, 
languid  voice.  "Won't  you  please  sit  down? 
And  excuse  my  appearance.  I  am  not  receiv 
ing — but — but — I  thought  I  would  see  you" 

Drusilla  sat  down. 

"Now  that's  real  nice  of  you  to  see  me.  I 
heard  you  was  sick — had  a  bad  cold;  and  I 
thought  I'd  come  in  and  see  if  I  couldn't  help  you. 
I  brung  some  boneset.  I  nursed  a  lot  when  I 
was  younger,  and  I  found  that  boneset  is  the 
best  thing  in  the  world  fer  a  cold.  Jest  make  a 
tea  of  it  and  drink  it  hot.  It's  kind  of  bitter,  but 
you  can  put  milk  and  sugar  in  it  if  you  want  to 
— though,  to  my  notion,  that  makes  it  worse. 
Then  git  right  into  bed  and  cover  up  and  sweat. 
It's  the  best  thing  in  the  world  fer  a  cold — jest 
sweat  it  out  of  you.  If  you  should  put  a  hot 


92        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

brick  or  a  hot  flatiron  at  your  back  and  another  at 
your  feet,  it'd  help.  By  to-morrow  you  won't 
know  you  got  a  cold." 

The  woman's  face  was  a  study;  but  the  doctor 
entered  at  that  moment  and  saved  her.  She  said : 

"Dr.  Rodman,  this  is  Miss  Doane,  mv  nearest 

'     •/ 

neighbor." 

Drusilla  shook  his  hand  heartily. 

"I'm  real  glad  to  see  you.  I've  brung  Mis' 
Beaumont  some  herbs.  A  little  boneset.  I  told 
her  to  make  a  good  strong  cup  o'  tea  of  it,  and 
drink  it  hot,  then  git  into  bed  and  cover  up  warm, 
and  sweat,  and  by  to-morrow  she  wouldn't  know 
she  had  a  cold." 

The  doctor  looked  from  Drusilla  to  Mrs.  Beau 
mont,  hardly  knowing  what  to  say.  This  little 
old  lady,  with  her  sunbonnet  and  her  boneset  tea, 
was  not  the  usual  visitor  he  encountered  in  the 
homes  of  his  fashionable  patients. 

"Yes,"    said    Mrs.    Beaumont,    "and — and— 
Miss  Doane  was  telling  me  that  a  hot  brick — what 
was  it  you  said,  Miss  Doane?" 

"I  was  a  tellin'  her  that  a  hot  brick  or  a  flatiron 
at  her  feet  and  another  at  the  small  of  her  back 
would  help.  It  ain't  comfortable  jest  at  first, 
but  she  can  have  the  hired  girl  wrap  it  in  a  piece 
o'  flannel,  and  after  a  while  it  feels  real  com- 
fortin'.  But  I  must  be  goin'.  I  see  you're  a 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         93 

lookin'  at  my  bunnet,  Mis'  Beaumont.  It  don't 
look  much  like  what  you  got  on  your  head,  but 
I  work  a  lot  in  the  garden,  and  if  I  don't  have 
somethin'  on  my  head  my  hair  gets  all  frouzy. 
A  hat  don't  seem  to  be  the  right  thing  to  work 
in  the  garden  with,  and  if  I  do  wear  one  the  sun 
burns  the  back  of  my  neck  when  I  stoop  down; 
so  I  got  me  a  bunnet,  like  I  used  to  wear,  and  it 
makes  me  feel  real  to  home.  Good-by,  good-by, 
doctor." 

She  turned  to  Mrs.  Beaumont : 

"Now,  if  the  boneset  tea  don't  do  you  no  good, 
let  me  know.  Perhaps  your  liver  is  teched  a 
little  and  it  makes  you  feel  bad  all  over.  I  got 
some  camomile  leaves  that's  real  good  fer  that. 
If  you  want  any,  I'll  be  real  glad  to  bring  'em 
over." 

She  was  gone. 

The  doctor  looked  at  his  patient  and  the  pa 
tient  looked  at  the  doctor.  Then  Mrs.  Beau 
mont  put  back  her  head  and  burst  into  a  gale  of 
laughter,  in  which  the  dignified  doctor  soon 
joined.  They  laughed  and  laughed,  the  woman 
wiping  her  tear-filled  eyes.  Finally,  when  she 
could  stop  long  enough  to  talk,  she  said: 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  so  funny  in 
all  your  life — a  hot  brick — or  a  hot  flatiron— 
a  peal  of  laugher — "at  my  feet — another  one  at 


94        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

the  small  of  my  back —  Oh,  I  shall  die,  I  shall 
surely  die!"  And  she  went  off  into  another 
paroxysm  of  laughter. 

When  the  laughter  ceased  and  the  doctor  re 
turned  to  his  professional  manner,  asking  her 
how  she  felt  and  starting  to  feel  her  pulse,  she 
said: 

"Doctor,  she's  cured  me.  I  haven't  had  a 
laugh  like  that  for  years.  It's  better  than  all 
your  medicine.  Boneset  tea — "  and  again  she 
was  off. 

Finally,  when  she  had  quieted,  the  doctor  said : 

"I  don't  know  but  that  her  boneset  tea  is  as 
good  as  anything  else.  All  you  need  is  a  little 
quiet.  You  seem  better  than  you  were  yester- 
day." 

"I  tell  you  that  I  am  well!  All  my  system 
needed  was  a  little  shaking  up,  and  Miss  Doane 
has  done  it  for  me." 

The  doctor  rose  to  go. 

"I  think  that  I  shall  take  Miss  Doane  as  a 
partner.  Her  herbs  or  her  prescriptions  seem 
to  have  a  better  effect  than  my  medicines.  Shall 
I  come  to-morrow?" 

"Yes;  this  may  not  last.  Come  to-morrow  if 
you  are  near,  though  I  am  sure  I  won't  need 
you." 

As  the  doctor's  hand  was  on  the  door  he  turned : 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         95 

"If  I  were  you,  Mrs.  Beaumont,  I'd  send  for 
those  camomile  leaves." 

But  with  all  her  little  acts  of  neighborliness, 
and  her  "baking  day"  and  her  attempts  to  find 
duties  to  fill  the  hours,  time  began  to  hang  heavily 
upon  the  hands  of  active  Drusilla.  If  she  had 
been  of  a  higher  station  in  life  she  would  have 
said  that  she  was  bored  or  was  suffering  from 
that  general  complaint  of  the  rich — "enuyee." 

Here  Providence  stepped  in.  One  morning 
when  she  was  dressing  she  heard  a  peculiar  little 
wailing  cry.  She  listened.  The  cry  was  re 
peated.  She  listened  again,  but  could  not  locate 
the  sound.  Then,  thinking  she  might  be  mis 
taken,  she  continued  with  her  dressing;  but 
again  that  piercing  wail  was  borne  to  her  ears. 
She  opened  her  window  and  then  she  heard  it 
distinctly — a  baby's  cry.  She  listened  in  amaze 
ment.  There  was  no  baby  on  the  place  except 
the  gardener's,  and  his  cottage  was  too  far  from 
the  big  house  to  have  his  children's  wails  heard 
in  that  place  given  over  to  aristocratic  quiet. 
Drusilla  tried  to  see  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  but  she  could  not ;  so  she  rang  for  Jeanne. 

"Jane,  I  heard  a  baby  cry.  Go  and  find  out 
where  it  is,"  she  said. 

Jeanne  was  gone  a  long  time,  it  seemed  to 


96 

Drusilla;  and  then  she  returned,  with  big  fright 
ened  eyes,  followed  by  the  butler  carrying  a  large 
basket.  He  stopped  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  James.  What  you  standing  there 
for?  What  you  got?" 

Just  then  the  wailing  cry  came  from  the  bas 
ket,  and  Drusilla  dropped  the  brush  in  her  hand. 

"For  the  land's  sake,  what's  in  the  basket? 
Come  here!" 

James  gingerly  deposited  the  basket  upon  a 
chair. 

"It's  a  baby,  ma'am — a  live  baby." 

"Well,  upon  my  soul!  Of  course  it  is!  You 
wouldn't  expect  it  to  not  be  alive.  Let's  see  it." 

She  went  over  to  the  basket  and  looked  down 
at  the  lively  little  bundle  that  seemed  to  be  pro 
testing  in  its  feeble  way  against  the  injustice  of 
the  world  in  leaving  it  at  a  chance  doorstep. 
Drusilla  looked  at  it  admiringly. 

"Why,  ain't  it  cunning,  the  pore  little  thing! 
It's  done  up  warm.  How'd  it  get  here?" 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am.  It  must  'a'  been  left 
early  this  morning  after  the  gates  was  opened. 
I'll  ask  the  gardeners  if  they  saw  any  one  come 
in." 

"Never  mind  now,  James.  Here's  a  letter. 
It'll  tell  us  all  about  it.  Where  are  my  glasses, 
Jane?" 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         97 

Drusilla  put  on  her  glasses  and  read  the  in 
scription  on  the  letter. 

"Miss  Drusilla  Doane.  Well,  they  know  my 
name." 

She  tore  open  the  envelope  and  read  aloud: 

"I  read  in  the  paper  that  you  have  no  one  and  are 
alone  and  rich.  My  baby  has  no  one  but  me,  and  I 
can't  get  work.  Won't  you  take  him?  His  name  is 
John — that's  all. 

"JOHN'S  MOTHER." 

Drusilla  pushed  the  glasses  up  on  her  forehead 
and  used  a  slang  expression  that  almost  drew  a 
smile  from  solemn  James. 

"Now  what  do  you  know  about  that!" 

She  looked  at  James  as  if  he  should  have  an 
answer,  and  he  said : 

"I'm  sure,  Miss  Doane,  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it  at  all." 

Drusilla  looked  down  at  the  baby  in  the  basket, 
and  again  at  the  letter,  not  knowing  what  to  do ; 
but,  the  little  wail  again  rising,  she  reached  down 
to  take  the  baby  into  her  arms,  and  found  it  se 
curely  pinned  into  the  basket. 

"Poor  little  mother!"  she  said.  "She  didn't 
want  you  to  get  cold." 

As  she  took  out  the  safety-pins  and  lifted  the 


98        DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

baby  into  her  arms,  she  dislodged  a  bottle  of  milk. 

"Why,  she  thought  of  everything!  She  must 
'a'  loved  you,  little  John,  even  though  she  left 
you  on  my  doorstep." 

The  baby,  a  healthy  little  youngster  about 
eight  months  old,  blinked  up  at  Drusilla  in 
a  friendly  manner,  then  clutched  her  hair. 
Drusilla  laughed,  as  she  drew  her  head  away. 

"That's  the  first  thing  all  babies  make  for,  my 
hair.  Bless  his  little  heart,  he's  gettin'  familiar 
already." 

James  interrupted. 

"What'll  I  do  with  it,  Miss  Doane?" 

Drusilla  looked  up  from  the  baby. 

"Do  with  what?  The  basket?  Take  it 
away." 

"No,  ma'am;  I  meant  it" — pointing  to  the 
baby. 

"James,  it  is  not  an  it.  It's  a  he.  But  you're 
right,  James;  what'll  we  do  with  it?"  And  she 
looked  down  at  the  little  body  in  her  arms. 

"Why  —  why — "  stammered  James,  who 
plainly  showed  that  disposing  of  babies  left  by 
chance  at  doorsteps  was  entirely  out  of  the  usual 
line  of  a  well  trained  butler's  duties,  "I  don't 
know,  ma'am.  It  never  happened  before  where 
I've  served."  Here  he  had  an  inspiration  and 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION         99 

his  face  cleared.  "Perhaps  we'd  better  send  for 
Mr.  Thornton." 

Drusilla  looked  up  at  him  in  a  relieved  way. 

"That's  the  first  glimmer  of  sense  you've  ever 
showed,  James;  though  what  he  knows  about 
babies  I  don't  see.  I'm  sure  he  never  was  one 
himself.  Now  I'll  set  down — this  baby's  heavy 
— and  you  go  arid  telephone." 

"What'll  I  tell  him,  ma'am?" 

"Tell  him?  Why,  tell  him  we've  got  a  baby 
unexpected  and  we  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
it." 

James  almost  smiled  again. 

"I'll  break  the  news  to  him  careful,  ma'am," 
he  said. 

When  he  was  gone  Drusilla  scrutinized  the 
baby's  hood  and  coat. 

"Jane,"  she  said,  "his  clothes  is  pretty — his 
mother  must  'a'  made  'em;  and  his  socks  is  knit, 
not  bought  ones." 

She  examined  each  article  of  his  clothing  as 
carefully  as  would  a  mother  inspecting  her  first 
born's  wardrobe. 

"He's  dressed  real  nice.  .  .  .  Did  you  get 
him?"  as  James  entered  the  room.  "What  did  he 
say?" 

"I  did  not  speak  to  him,  Miss  Doane,  but  to 


Miss  Daphne.  She  acted  rather — well — rather 
excited,  and  said  she  would  be  over  immediately 
with  her  father." 

"We'll  wait  in  patience,  I  suppose.  I'll  lay 
this  young  man  down.  My  arms  must  be  a 
gettin'  old  because  I  feel  him." 

She  laid  the  baby  on  the  couch  and  he  protested 
with  legs  and  arms  and  voice  against  being  again 
laid  upon  his  back.  Drusilla  took  him  up  and 
he  was  happy  again. 

"Well,"  laughed  Drusilla,  "I  guess  I've  found 
somethin'  to  do  with  my  hands." 

The  baby  stared  at  Drusilla  for  a  few  mo 
ments;  then  his  wails  commenced  again.  Dru 
silla  trotted  him,  but  that  did  not  stop  his 
cries. 

"Perhaps  he  is  hungry,  Miss  Doane,"  Jeanne 
suggested. 

"Give  me  that  bottle." 

Drusilla  felt  the  bottle  and  found  it  cold. 

"It's  cold,  James.  Go  warm  some  milk  and 
scald  the  bottle." 

James  went  away,  his  head  held  high,  dis 
approval  expressed  in  every  line  of  his  back. 
Within  a  few  moments  a  motor  was  heard  at 
the  door  and  Daphne's  young  voice  was  calling: 

"Can  we  come' in,  Miss  Doane?  Where  is  the 
baby?" 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       101 

Daphne  entered,  interested  and  excited,  fol 
lowed  by  her  father,  stiff,  erect,  the  correct  law 
yer  troubled  by  unnecessary  and  petty  affairs  of 
the  women  world. 

Daphne  came  to  the  baby,  who  stopped  his 
wails  long  enough  to  stare  at  the  new  visitor  with 
round,  wondering  eyes. 

"Oh,  isn't  he  a  dear!     How  did  you  find  him?" 

Drusilla  handed  her  the  letter.  "Read  that, 
and  then  you'll  know  as  much  as  me." 

Daphne  read  the  note  out  loud. 

"Isn't  it  romantic,  Father!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Just  like  you  read  about  in  books.  Oh,  look 
at  James  with  the  bottle!" 

James  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left  but  handed  the  bottle  to  Drusilla.  She  felt 
it  to  test  its  warmth  and  gave  it  to  the  squirm 
ing  baby,  who  settled  down  into  the  hollow  of  her 
arm  with  a  little  gurgle  of  content.  The  four 
stood  around  the  baby  and  watched  it  for  a  few 
moments  in  silence.  Soon  its  lids  began  to  droop 
and  it  was  off  to  slumberland. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it,  Miss 
Doane?"  whispered  Daphne. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  That's  why  I  sent 
for  your  father." 

"It's  clearly  a  case  for  the  police,"  Mr.  Thorn 
ton  said  dryly.  "I  will  telephone  them." 


102      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"What  did  you  say?  Telephone  the  police? 
Why?" 

"I  will  ask  them  to  call  and  take  the  child  in 
charge." 

"Why,  what's  the  baby  done?" 

"Nothing,  of  course;  but  they  will  understand 
how  to  dispose  of  it." 

"What'll  they  do  with  it?" 

"They  will  get  into  connection  with  the  proper 
authorities,  and  if  the  mother  cannot  be  found, 
they  will  have  the  child  committed  to  some  in 
stitution." 

"Some  institution.  What  kind  of  an  institu 
tion?" 

"An  orphan  asylum — a  home  for  waifs  of  this 
kind." 

Drusilla  caught  the  word  "home"  and  she  sat 
up  so  suddenly  that  the  bottle  fell  to  the  floor 
and  the  blue  eyes  opened  and  looked  into  Dru- 
silla's  face  appealingly  and  the  little  wail  arose 
again.  Drusilla  bent  over  and  picked  up  the  bot 
tle,  and  when  she  arose  her  eyes  were  hard  and 
two  bright  spots  colored  her  wrinkled  cheeks. 

"You  said  'home.'  What  do  you  mean?  I 
don't  like  the  word." 

Mr.  Thornton  was  plainly  irritated. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       103 

"A  home  for  foundlings,  where  the  proper  care 
will  be  given  it." 

"Yes,  but  how?"  queried  Drusilla.  "What 
kind  of  care?" 

Daphne  interrupted  her  father,  who  was 
plainly  trying  to  find  words  to  explain  the  exact 
meaning  of  an  orphan  asylum. 

"Oh,  Father,  that's  horrid.  It'll  be  put  in  with 
hundreds  of  other  babies,  all  dressed  alike,  and 
all  brought  up  on  rules  and  bells  and  things — " 

"I  know  now  what  your  father  means — an  or 
phan  asylum.  Just  the  same  thing  as  an  old 
ladies'  home,  only  backwards.  No,  I  lived  in  one 
o'  them  and  I  know  what  it  is  and,"  she  settled 
back  in  her  chair,  "my  baby  ain't  goin'  there." 

"But,"  objected  Mr.  Thornton,  looking  help 
lessly  at  the  obstinate  face  before  him,  "that  is  the 
only  possible  way  to  dispose  of  him." 

"But  think  of  his  poor  mother,  how  she'd  feel 
if  she  read  in  the  paper  that  he'd  been  put  in  a 
home.  She  could  V  done  that  herself." 

"She  should  have  thought  of  that  before  leav 
ing  him,"  Mr.  Thornton  said  dryly.  "She  should 
not  have  deserted  the  child,  and  does  not  deserve 
any  consideration." 

"Well,  we  all  do  things  we  oughtn't  to  do. 
Even  you  do,  'cause  I  can  see,  lookin'  closely  at 


104       DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

you,  that  you  oughtn't  to  drink  so  much  coffee, 
but  you  do;  and  the  mother  hadn't  ought  to  have 
had  the  baby  in  the  first  place,  which  she  did,  and 
she  oughtn't  'a'  left  it  on  my  stoop,  but  it's  done. 
Now  can't  you  think  of  something  else  to  do  with 
it  except  send  it  to  a  home?  Ugh,  that  word 
makes  a  pizen  in  my  blood!" 

Mr.  Thornton  clearly  was  exasperated  that 
his  very  sensible  advice  was  not  acted  upon  im 
mediately. 

"I  have  told  you  the  only  thing  to  do,  and  we 
are  wasting  time.  I  must  go  into  the  city. 
James,  telephone  the  police." 

Drusilla  sat  up  very  erect. 

"James,  you'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind!  I've 
decided.  I'll  take  the  baby." 

"What!"  said  Mr.  Thornton,  his  exasperated 
look  changing  to  one  of  consternation.  "What!" 
said  Daphne  in  delight.  "Quoi!"  said  Jeanne. 
James  did  not  speak,  but  he  stopped  on  his  way 
to  the  telephone  and  expressed  his  astonishment 
as  well  as  a  well  trained  servant  may  express  as 
tonishment  at  the  actions  of  an  employer. 

Drusilla  settled  back  in  the  chair  and  rocked 
back  and  forth  with  the  sleeping  baby  in  her 
arms,  showing  that  she  was  enjoying  the  little 
explosive  she  had  dropped  in  the  midst  of  her 
family  circle.  There  wras  silence  for  a  few  mo- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       105 

ments;  then  Mr.  Thornton  cleared  his  throat. 

"I  really  don't  believe  I  understood  you,  Miss 
Doane,"  he  said. 

Drusilla  looked  up  at  him  with  a  twinkle  in 
her  eyes. 

"I  said  in  plain  English  that  I'd  take  the  baby." 

Mr.  Thornton  looked  at  her,  evidently  at  a  loss 
for  words  to  express  his  disapproval.  Drusilla 
watched  him,  waiting  for  him  to  speak ;  and  then, 
finding  that  he  was  silent,  she  said. 

"Now  you  take  that  chair,  and  set  down  in 
front  of  me.  Jane,  go  away.  James,  go  down 
stairs.  Now,  Mr.  Thornton,  fix  yourself  real 
comfortable  and  we'll  talk." 

"But  Miss  Doane—" 

"Now  don't  but  me,  Mr.  Thornton,  'cause  I'm 
goin'  to  talk.  I  ain't  used  my  voice  much  sence 
I  been  here,  and  it's  gettin'  tired  o'  doin'  nothin', 
jest  like  I  am.  Now  I've  done  everything  you 
told  me  to.  I've  made  visits  I  didn't  like,  I've 
talked  with  women  who  come  here  who  didn't 
like  me,  and  I've  tried  hard  to  live  up  to  this 
house  and  be  a  lady  and  do  nothin',  and  have 
nothin'  to  look  after  and  no  one  to  do  for  and 
worry  about,  and  nothin'  to  think  of;  and  I'm 
tired  of  it.  I've  done  somethin'  all  my  life,  and 
took  care  of  some  one.  I  nussed  my  mother  for 
most  forty  years,  then  I  took  care  of  the  sick  in 


106       DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

all  our  county,  and  I  looked  after  the  old  ladies 
in  the  home  who  wasn't  able  to  look  after  them 
selves  and  now  I  can't  jest  set.  I'm  too  old  to 
learn  new  ways,  and  I  got  to  have  something  or 
some  one  to  do  for,  and  the  good  Lord  knowed  I 
was  gettin'  restless  and  sent  this  here  baby. 
Now — no,  wait  a  minute — I  ain't  through  yet," 
as  Mr.  Thornton  tried  to  interrupt  her.  "I'm 
goin'  to  have  my  say,  then  your  turn'll  come, 
though  it  won't  do  you  much  good,  as  my  mind  is 
made  up,  and  when  a  woman's  mind  is  made  up 
it's  jest  as  foolish  to  try  to  change  it  as  it  is  to  try 
to  set  a  hen  before  she  begins  to  cluck." 

She  stopped  a  moment  and  looked  down  at  the 
sleeping  baby  in  her  arms. 

"I  ain't  a-thinkin'  of  myself  alone  and  jest  how 
good  it'll  be  for  me,  but  I'm  a-thinkin'  of  the  baby 
and  I  want  to  give  him  a  chance  like  other  babies." 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Thornton,  "it's  quite  impos 
sible  !  A  home  for  such  as  he  is  the  proper  place 
for  him." 

"Don't  say  that  word  home  to  me.  Mr. 
Thornton,  I  hate  the  word.  I've  et  charity 
bread  and  it's  bitter,  and  charity  milk'd  be  the 
same." 

Mr.  Thornton  threw  out  his  hands  with  an  ex 
asperated  gesture. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       107 

"But  it  is  impossible,  I  tell  you,  quite  impos 
sible!" 

"Why  impossible?"  asked  Drusilla.  "Why, 
ain't  the  house  big  enough?" 

"But  my  late  client,  Mr.  Elias  Doane— 

"Have  you  forgot  the  letter  he  wrote  me: 
'Spend  the  money  your  own  way,  Drusilla.' ' 

"But  he  certainly  did  not  mean — ' 

"How  do  you  know  what  he  meant?  He  said 
spend  it,  and  I  ain't  spent  nothin'  yet  except  on 
some  foolish  clothes.  First  thing  I  know  I 
might  die,  then  it  wouldn't  be  spent,  and  I  know 
I'd  pass  my  days  worryin'  St.  Peter  to  find  out 
what  had  become  of  it." 

Mr.  Thornton  threw  up  his  hands  again. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  say  more  than  I 
have  said,"  he  declared.  "Have  you  decided  on 
its  disposition?" 

Drusilla,  seeing  that  the  lawyer  was  surren 
dering,  said  quite  meekly: 

"I  ain't  figured  out  what  is  to  be  done  jest 
now — " 

Here  Daphne  came  to  her  rescue. 

"Why  don't  you  give  him  to  the  gardener's 
wife  until  you  find  out  what  to  do?" 

Drusilla  reached  over  and  patted  Daphne's 
hand. 


"Daphne,  there's  some  sense  under  them  curls. 
Your  father  ought  to  take  you  in  business  with 
him.  That's  what  we'll  do.  She  has  four  al 
ready,  but  there's  always  room  in  a  house  where 
there's  babies  for  one  more.  Send  for  her." 

"Should  it  not  be  medically  examined  before 
being  placed  with  other  children?"  Mr.  Thorn 
ton  suggested. 

"Medically  examined,  stuff  and  nonsense! 
Why?" 

"A  child  left  in  the  manner  in  which  this  in 
fant  was  left  may  come  from  extremely  unsani 
tary  surroundings,  and  may  carry  disease  with 
it.  It  is  more  than  probable." 

"Disease  nothin'!"  said  Drusilla,  looking  down 
at  the  baby.  "I  never  saw  a  healthier  child." 

At  the  word  medical  Daphne  rose  and  went  to 
a  part  of  the  room  where  she  could  be  seen  by 
Drusilla  and  not  by  her  father,  and  when  Dru 
silla  looked  up  from  inspecting  the  baby  she 
caught  sight  of  Daphne,  who  seemed  to  be  star 
ing  at  her  fixedly  with  a  meaning  in  her  eye. 

Mr.  Thornton,  still  intent  upon  the  one  sub 
ject  where  he  saw  a  chance  of  having  his  advice 
acted  upon,  and  consequently  of  retaining  at 
least  a  semblance  of  authority,  said:  "I  think 
a  doctor  should  be  sent  for  and  the  child  medi 
cally  examined." 


Drusilla  commenced:  "It's  nonsense.  There 
ain't —  "  but  here  she  again  caught  Daphne's  eye 
and  saw  a  slight  movement  of  the  head  which 
seemed  to  mean,  "Say  yes."  Drusilla  looked  at 
her  a  moment  uncomprehendingly ;  then,  the  nod 
being  repeated  more  vigorously,  she  said: 

"Well — well — yes,  if  you  believe  it  should  be 
done,  though  for  the  life  of  me  I  don't  see  no 
sense  in  it.  Who'll  I  send  for?" 

"I  would  suggest  Dr.  Rathman.     He  is — " 

''Oh,  Father!"  interrupted  Daphne.  "He  is 
so  old  and  slow.  He'd  never  get  here.  Why 
don't  you  ask  Dr.  Eaton?  He  lives  near  here." 

Mr.  Thornton  pursed  up  his  lips. 

"He  is  far  too  young.  He  has  not  the  experi 
ence  of  Dr.  Rathman." 

"But,  Father,  the  baby  isn't  dying." 

Drusilla's  shrewd  old  eyes  looked  keenly  at 
Daphne's  flushed  face,  and  she  laughed. 

"I  think  Daphne  is  right.  A  young  doctor's 
better.  I  don't  think  old  doctors  have  a  hand 
with  babies." 

"But  Dr.  Eaton  is  very  young,"  remonstrated 
Mr.  Thornton. 

"The  younger  the  better,  then  perhaps  he  ain't 
forgot  how  the  stomach-ache  feels  himself.  You 
telephone  him,  Daphne." 

"No,"  said  Daphne,  a  little  embarrassed.     "I 


110      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

think  James  had  better  do  that.  Oh,  here's  Mrs. 
Donald." 

The  baby  was  given  into  the  motherly  arms  of 
Mrs.  Donald;  and  Mr.  Thornton  drew  on  his 
gloves  and  said  very  coldly,  feeling  that  he  had 
lost  ground  on  every  point,  "Come,  Daphne;  we 
will  go.  When  you  have  decided  upon  the  final 
disposition  of  the  child,  you  may,  as  always, 
command  my  services,  Miss  Doane.  Come, 
Daphne." 

"But,  Father,  I'll  stay  a  while  with  Miss 
Doane." 

"No,  Daphne;  you  will  go  with  me.  Your 
mother  needs  you." 

Daphne  cast  an  imploring  glance  at  Drusilla. 

"Can't  Daphne  stay  a  while?  I'd  like  to  talk 
with  her,"  Drusilla  said. 

"No,"  said  her  father,  with  a  finality  in  his 
tone  that  caused  Daphne  to  go  with  him  meekly, 
if  unwillingly;  "Daphne  must  return  with  me." 

Drusilla  looked  at  the  set  face  a  moment,  and 
then  at  the  rebellious  face  of  Daphne,  and  her 
own  face  broke  into  the  tiny  wrinkles  that  ac 
companied  her  smiles. 

"Oh,  I  see!  Well,  never  mind,  child.  There 
are  lots  of  other  days  and  this  baby  may  need  the 
services  of  a  doctor  often."  And  she  accom 
panied  them  to  the  hall  with  a  little  light  of  un- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       111 

derstanding  in  her  eyes  as  she  watched  Daphne's 
pouting  face  disappear  in  the  motor. 

The  young  doctor  came.  He  was  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  young  athlete,  not  yet  thirty,  and  his 
merry  blue  eyes  and  his  cheery  voice  won  Drusilla 
at  once.  They  went  to  the  gardener's  cottage 
and  inspected  the  baby.  The  doctor  patted  it 
and  tickled  it  and  tossed  it  in  his  arms  until  it  was 
all  gurgles  of  delight. 

"He's  as  sound  as  a  dollar,  Miss  Doane,"  he 
said.  "Couldn't  be  in  better  condition.  He 
could  run  a  Marathon  this  minute  if  his  legs  were 
long  enough." 

Drusilla  watched  the  proceedings  with  twin 
kling  eyes. 

"Well,  that's  a  new  way  to  medically  examine 
an  ailin'  child,"  she  commented;  "but  it  seems  to 
work." 

"Ailing!  He  isn't  ailing,  Miss  Doane.  If  he 
keeps  this  fit  Mrs.  Donald  won't  have  to  send  for 
me  often." 

"That's  what  I  told  Mr.  Thornton;  but  he  said 
I  must  have  you." 

Dr.  Eaton  stopped  tossing  the  baby  and  looked 
at  Miss  Doane  in  astonishment. 

"Are  you  telling  me  that  Mr.  Thornton  asked 
you  to  send  for  me?" 

"Well,"  and  Drusilla  laughed,  "he  didn't  ex- 


112      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

actly  mention  your  name,  but  he  said  I  should 
have  a  doctor  for  the  baby." 

"I  thought  Mr.  Thornton  wasn't  recommend 
ing  me.  Didn't  he  mention  Dr.  Rathman?" 

"Perhaps  he  did,  but  Miss  Daphne  seemed  to 
feel  that  he  was  too  old  to  answer  a  hurry  call 
like  this,  so  we  sort  of  compromised,  at  least 
Daphne  and  me  did,  on  you." 

There  was  a  slight  flush  on  the  young  man's 
face  that  did  not  miss  the  keen  eyes  of  Drusilla. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  see."  And  then,  in  an  at 
tempt  to  change  the  subject:  "Is  this  a  new 
baby  of  Donald's?  I  haven't  seen  him  around 
here  before." 

"No,"  said  Drusilla;  "this  is  my  baby." 

Dr.  Eaton  looked  at  her,  and  then  laughed  with 
her. 

"Now  what  should  I  say,  Miss  Doane — many 
happy  returns  of  the  day,  or — ' 

"You  jest  say,  Dr.  Eaton,  'This  is  a  fine  baby.' 
But  come  up  to  the  house  and  have  breakfast  with 
me.  I  clean  forgot  it.  And  we'll  talk  it  all 
over." 

They  went  slowly  up  the  graveled  walk  to  the 
breakfast-room,  and  over  the  coffee  and  the  cakes 
Drusilla  explained  the  unexpected  arrival  of  the 
baby. 

"Now  you  know  as  much  about  it  as  I  do," 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       113 

she  ended;  "and  I  suppose  you'll  say  with  Mr. 
Thornton  that  I'm  a  foolish  old  woman  to  say 
I'll  take  it.  But  it  won't  do  you  no  good.  I'm 
goin'  to  have  my  way,  and  I've  found  out  in  the 
last  few  weeks  that  I  can  get  it,  and  I'm  afraid 
it's  spoilin'  me.  I'm  goin'  to  keep  the  baby." 
The  doctor  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 
"May  I  light  a  cigarette?  Thanks.  That 
breakfast  was  corking.  Now,  about  the  baby.  I 
think  you  are  right.  Why  shouldn't  you  keep 
the  baby?" 

"That's  what  I  said— why  shouldn't  I?" 
"No  reason  in  the  world  why  you  shouldn't." 
"I  like  you,  Dr.  Eaton.  I  like  you  more  and 
more;  and  I  see  you  understand  how  I  feel. 
Here  I  am,  an  old  woman  all  alone  in  this  big 
house,  with  nothin'  to  do,  and  a  lot  of  pesky 
servants  that  stand  around  and  don't  earn  their 
salt,  jest  a-waitin'  on  me.  I've  always  wanted 
babies,  but  never  had  a  chance  to  have  'em,  and 
I've  jest  spent  my  heart  lovin'  other  people's, 
and  seein'  'em  in  other  people's  arms  and  mine 
empty.  Now  I  git  a  chance  to  have  a  baby  most 
my  own  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  lose  it." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  face  for  a  few  mo 
ments  in  silence,  and  beneath  the  lines  he  saw  the 
loneliness  of  the  heart-hungry  little  old  woman 
and  he  understood. 


114       DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"You  are  perfectly  right,  Miss  Doane. 
There's  nothing  like  a  baby  in  all  the  world.  It'll 
give  you  something  to  do  and  think  about  and 
it'll  bring  sunshine  into  the  house.  I  envy  you. 
Every  time  I  go  down  to  the  'home'  where  I  look 
after  the  health  of  some  kiddies,  I  wish  I  could 
bundle  every  one  of  them  up  and  take  them  to  a 
real  home  with  me." 

"That's  what  Mr.  Thornton  wanted  me  to  do 
with  it — put  it  in  a  home.  I've  lived  in  a  home, 
Dr.  Eaton,  and  though  I  wasn't  treated  bad  and 
had  all  the  comforts  of  four  walls  and  enough  to 
eat,  such  as  it  was,  it  ain't  a  place  to  die  in,  and  it 
sure  ain't  a  place  to  grow  up  in." 

"You're  right  again,  Miss  Doane.  The  kid 
dies  up  at  our  place  get  a  bed  and  clothes  and 
plenty  of  food;  but  there's  something  they  don't 
get  and  that  something  is  going  to  count  in  their 
life.  They  grow  up  without  love,  and  are  turned 
out  on  the  world  just  little  machines  that  have 
been  taught  that  the  world  goes  round  at  the  tap 
of  a  bell.  They've  missed  something  that  they 
can  never  get,  and  if  they  win  out  in  life  it's  be 
cause  they've  got  something  pretty  big  inside  of 
them  which  they've  had  to  fight  for  all  by  them 
selves.  And  any  fight  is  hard  when  it  is  made 
alone  without  a  little  tenderness  to  help  over  the 
hard  places.  Why,  when  I  see  the  girls  all  in 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       115 

checked  aprons,  hair  braided  in  two  braids  tied 
with  a  blue  cord,  all  the  boys  in  blue  with  hats 
just  exactly  alike  with  blue  bands  on  them — all 
going  to  dinner  at  a  regular  time — all  eating  oat 
meal  out  of  a  blue  bowl,  all  just  part  of  a  thing 
that  turns  babies  into  a  lot  of  little  jelly-molds 
like  a  hundred  other  little  jelly-molds — well,  Miss 
Doane,  it  hurts  something  way  deep  inside  of  me. 
Keep  the  baby,  Miss  Doane,  for  your  own  sake 
and  for  the  baby's." 

"I'm  glad  you  see  it  my  way.  I'd  made  up 
my  mind  already,  but  you  make  it  easier  for  me. 
I  wonder  that  I'll  do  with  it  at  first?" 

"Why  don't  you  let  the  gardener's  wife  keep  it 
until  you  can  find  out  what  you  really  want  to 
do.  You  can  pay  her  and  she'll  be  glad  to  earn 
the  extra  money.  It  won't  cost  much." 

"I  ain't  thinkin'  about  the  cost.  I'm  jest  glad 
to  get  a  chance  to  spend  some  money.  Mr. 
Thornton  come  to  me  the  other  day  and  talked 
most  an  hour  about  the  investment  of  my  income, 
and  when  I  got  it  through  my  head  wrhat  he 
meant,  I  learnt  that  he  has  to  hunt  up  ways  to 
put  out  the  money  that's  comin'  to  me  all  the 
time,  so's  it'll  make  more  money.  Now  I  don't 
want  to  invest  my  income,  or  save  it.  I  want  to 
spend  it,  and  I  don't  see  no  better  way  than  tak 
ing  babies." 


116      DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

She  laughed  softly. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  a  few  more,  Dr.  Eaton,  jest 
to  keep  that  one  company.  But  I  guess  I'll  git 
along.  Most  people  commence  with  one  at  a 
time." 

"Do  you  want  more  babies,  Miss  Doane?" 
asked  Dr.  Eaton,  leaning  forward  interestedly. 
"I  can  get  you  as  many  as  you  want.  I  run 
across  them  every  day — babies  that  lose  their 
mothers  in  the  hospitals,  babies  that  are  deserted. 
Why,  babies  that  need  homes  are  as  thick  as  fleas, 
in  New  York." 

Drusilla  put  up  her  hand. 

"Now,  I  don't  mean  I  want  'em  all  at  once, 
Dr.  Eaton.  We  won't  be  what  you  might  call 
impulsive,  'cause  if  there's  as  many  as  you  say, 
they  can  wait  until  I  know  about  'em.  I'd  rather 
like  to  pick  and  choose  my  family.  Now  I'll  go 
upstairs  and  think  a  little  about  this  one,  and 
what  we're  goin'  to  do  with  him.  It's  all  been 
rather  sudden,  you  know,  and  I  ain't  used  to  so 
much  excitement — though  I  think  it  is  good  fer 
me.  I  think  it's  going  to  keep  me  from  dyin' 
of  dry  rot,  which  I've  always  been  afeard  of.  I 
want  to  wear  out,  not  rust  out,  like  so  many  old 
women  do." 

Dr.  Eaton  rose  to  go  and  Miss  Drusilla  looked 
up  at  him  as  he  stood  straight  and  strong  before 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      117 

her.  She  smiled,  with  the  merry  little  wrinkles 
playing  around  the  corners  of  her  mouth. ' 

"I  believe  I'm  rather  ailin'  myself,  and  will 
need  to  have  a  family  doctor.  You  might  look 
in  every  once  in  a  while  and  see  if  my  health  is 
good." 

The  doctor  laughed  as  he  said:  "Well,  I  hope 
you  won't  ever  need  me  professionally,  but  I'd 
like  nothing  better  than  to  drop  in  and  have  a 
chat  with  you.  Think  over  the  baby  question, 
Miss  Doane.  You'll  find  it  the  greatest  ques 
tion  in  the  world  to  keep  you  up  and  coming. 
Good-by.  Thank  you  for  sending  for  me. 
Good-by." 

Drusilla  watched  him  as  he  swung  with  his  long 
stride  down  the  drive  and  out  of  the  gate,  and 
then  she  chuckled  to  herself. 

"I  can  see  now  why  Daphne  is  interested  in  the 
medical  profession.  I  don't  blame  her;  if  I  was 
fifty  years  younger,  I'd  be  myself." 


CHAPTER  VI 

ONE  morning  when  Drusilla  was  sitting  in 
the  small  library  reading  the  morning  pa 
per  her  eyes  caught  the  words:  "Funeral  of 
General  Fairmont."  She  read  of  his  death  in 
the  little  town  in  the  Middle  West,  attended  by 
a  few  of  the  officers  of  his  regiment  and  his  life 
long  friend,  John  Brierly. 

Drusilla  dropped  the  paper  with  an  exclama 
tion. 

"John!     And  he's  alive!" 

She  spent  the  next  few  hours  with  folded 
hands,  her  mind  far  in  the  past  that  was  recalled 
by  seeing  the  name  of  John  Brierly.  She  lived 
over  again  those  girlhood  years  when  the  world 
with  John  in  it  seemed  the  most  beautiful  place 
on  earth.  She  thought  of  her  mother's  failing 
health,  her  helplessness,  her  dependence.  She 
could  almost  hear  her  cry,  "Don't  leave  me,  Dru 
silla,  don't  leave  me!"  when  John  went  to  her 
and  asked  that  they  might  marry  and  meet  life's 
battles  together.  Drusilla  never  for  a  moment 
blamed  her  mother  for  her  selfishness  in  demand- 

118 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       119 

ing  all  and  giving  nothing;  and  she  never  would 
admit,  even  to  herself,  that  her  mother's  obstinacy 
in  refusing  either  to  go  with  John  and  Drusilla 
or  to  give  her  consent  that  they  live  with  her,  had 
mined  her  life.  Those  years  of  bitterness  were 
past,  and  now  she  remembered  only  the  happy 
days  when  she  and  John  were  together  and  life 
seemed  just  one  flowery  path  on  which  they 
walked  together. 

At  last  she  rose  and  rang  for  the  butler  and 
asked  him  to  telephone  Mr.  Thornton.  She 
could  never  get  used  to  the  telephone  herself. 
She  wanted  Mr.  Thornton  to  come  to  her  on  his 
way  home. 

She  passed  the  day  impatiently  awaiting  his 
arrival.  She  could  not  occupy  herself  with  the 
flowers,  nor  could  the  baby  at  the  gardener's  cot 
tage  evoke  any  enthusiasm,  although  she  care 
fully  looked  over  the  clothing  of  one  of  the 
younger  Donalds  that  kindly  Mrs.  Donald  had 
contributed  for  the  baby's  use. 

At  last  the  lawyer  arrived.  Drusilla  hardly 
allowed  him  to  be  seated  before  she  broached  the 
subject. 

"Mr.  Thornton,  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  great 
favor.  I  just  read  in  the  paper  that  an — an  old 
friend  of  mine  that  I  thought  dead  long  ago,  is 
living  in  a  little  town  in  southern  Ohio.  I  want 


120      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

to  know  how  he  is  getting  along,  what  he  is  do 
ing,  how  he  is  living.  I  want  you  to  send  some 
one  out  there  and  find  out  all  about  it.  I  want  to 
know  if  he's  comfortable  off,  and  happy.  He 
may  be  poor,  and  he  may  be  lonely.  Find  out 
all  about  him,  and  let  me  know." 

The  lawyer  started  to  say  something. 

"No,  don't  say  a  word,  and  don't  talk  about 
writin'  out.  That  ain't  what  I  want.  I  want  to 
know.,  and  letters  won't  tell  me  nothing.  Do  this 
for  me — send  some  one;  'cause  if  you  don't  I'll 
start  myself  to-morrow.  I'm  goin'  to  know  how 
life's  usin'  John  Brierly." 

She  leaned  over  and  touched  the  lawyer's  hand. 

"Don't  always  be  agin  me,  Mr.  Thornton.  I 
got  my  heart  in  this.  John  Brierly  meant  all 
the  world  to  me  once,  and  although  I'm  old  now 
I  ain't  forgot.  There's  some  things,  you  know, 
we  don't  forget." 

Mr.  Thornton  looked  at  the  flushed  old  face 
before  him,  and  a  softness  came  into  his  voice 
that  surprised  even  himself. 

"I'll  do  it  at  once,  Miss  Doane.  I'm  always 
glad  to  be  of  any  service  to  you." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  it;  though  sometimes 
you  have  to  be  backed  into  the  shafts.  But  you 
will  send  at  once — to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  I'll—let  me  see— I'll  send  Mr.  Burns." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Send  a  bright  young  man,  some  one  that'll 
nose  around  and  find  out  everything.  John's 
proud,  and  he  may  be  poor,  and  I  want  to  know 
jest  how  he's  fixed;  and  I  don't  want  him  to  feel 
that  any  one's  inquiring  into  his  affairs,  'cause 
then  he'd  shut  up  like  a  clam  and  I  couldn't  find 
out  nothin'.  Send  some  one  with  sense.  Hadn't 
you  better  go  yourself?" 

Mr.  Thornton  laughed. 

"That's  the  first  compliment  you  ever  gave  me, 
Miss  Doane;  but  I  don't  think  it  is  necessary 
that  I  go  myself.  I  have  a  very  clever  young 
man  in  the  office  who  will  do  better  than  I 
would." 

"Well,  have  him  go  at  once.  Can't  he  start 
to-night?" 

"I  don't  think  that  is  necessary  either.  He'd 
better  wait  until  I  give  him  all  the  details.  But 
I'll  start  him  off  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 
Now  you  rest  happy,  and  in  a  few  days  you'll 
know  all  about  it." 

Drusilla  passed  the  days  impatiently  waiting 
for  the  return  of  the  man  from  Ohio.  Finally 
he  arrived  and  Mr.  Thornton  brought  him  to  see 
her. 

Drusilla  sat  in  her  high-backed  chair. 

"Well,  begin!"  she  said  impatiently.  "I'm 
nigh  as  curious  as  a  girl." 


122       DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

The  young  clerk  drew  a  bundle  of  papers  from 
his  pocket. 

"I  found  out  as  much  as  I  could  regarding  the 
present  circumstances  of  John  Brierly.  He 
i«  " 

lo 

"What  does  he  look  like?"  interrupted  Dru- 
sllla.  "I  ain't  seen  him  for  mor'n  forty  years. 
Is  he  old  lookin'?  Is  he  sick?" 

The  young  man  smiled  at  her  impatience. 

"I  should  call  him  a  singularly  well  preserved 
man  for  his  years." 

"That  sounds  as  if  he  was  apple-sass,  or  some- 
thin'  to  eat.  What  does  he  look  like?  Is  he 
stoop-shoulderd  ?" 

"Not  at  all.  He  is  a  tall,  spare  man,  with 
white  hair  and  a  gray  Vandyke  beard." 

"What's  a  Vandyke  beard?  You  mean  whis 
kers?" 

"Yes;  whiskers  trimmed  to  a  point — rather  ar 
istocratic  looking." 

"John  always  was  a  gentleman  and  looked  it. 
Is  he  well  lookin'?" 

"Yes,  he  was  in  the  best  of  health." 

"Is  he — is  he — married?" 

"No;  he  never  married." 

Drusilla  was  quiet  for  a  moment,  her  eyes  see 
ing  beyond  the  men  to  the  lover  who  had  re 
mained  true  to  her  throughout  the  years. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Does  he  live  alone?" 

"He  has  two  rooms  in  the  home  of  some  peo 
ple  with  whom  he  has  lived  for  a  great  many 
years." 

"Is  he  in  business?" 

"No;  he  was  in  business  until  the  panic  of 
1893,  when  he  lost  his  business." 

"What  does  he  live  on?     Is  he  poor?" 

"He  saved  a  little  out  of  the  wreck  of  his  busi 
ness  and  lives  on  that." 

"How  much  has  he?" 

"I  think  he  has  about  five  hundred  dollars  a 
year;  just  enough  to  keep  him  modestly  in  that 
little  town." 

"Does  he  seem  happy?  Did  you  talk  with 
him?" 

"Yes;  I  visited  with  him  all  of  one  afternoon. 
He  does  not  seem  unhappy,  but  he  is  a  lonely  old 
man.  All  of  his  friends  are  gone  and  he  leads  a 
lonely  life." 

"What  does  he  do?" 

"He  has  his  books." 

"Yes;  John  always  loved  books.  They  used 
to  say  that  if  he'd  attend  to  business  more  and 
books  less,  he'd  git  along  better." 

The  clerk  laughed. 

"I'm  afraid  that's  what  they  say  out  there,  too. 
He  is  not  a  practical  man,  and  he  seems  to  have 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

paid  very  little  attention  to  the  making  of  money, 
or — what  is  more — to  the  keeping  of  it  after  he 
had  made  it." 

Drusilla  smiled. 

"That's  just  like  John,"  she  said  softly.  "Set 
him  down  somewhere  with  a  book  and  he'd  f orgit 
that  there  was  other  things  he  ought  to  be  doin' 
instead  of  readin'.  He  worked  in  Silas  Graham's 
grocery  store  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  Silas  had 
to  keep  pryin'  him  out  from  behind  the  barrels 
to  wait  on  customers.  Silas  said  when  he  let 
him  go  that  John's  business  was  clerkin'  in  a 
book  store  and  not  a  grocery  store.  Well,  well! 
John's  just  the  same,  I  guess.  He'd  ought  to 
had  some  one  with  common  sense  to  keep  him 
goinV 

"Is  there  anything  else  you  would  like  to 
know?" 

"No — "  said  Drusilla  hesitatingly.  "I  guess 
that's  all  I  need  to  know." 

She  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments.     Then: 

"Does  he  seem  strong?" 

"Yes;  strong  and  well." 

"D'ye  suppose  he  could  travel  by  himself?" 

"Certainly;  he  seems  perfectly  able  to  travel 
by  himself." 

"Then  I  guess  I'll  write  him  a  letter.  That's 
all,  and  I  thank  you  very  much,  young  man.  I 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       125 

suppose  you  have  a  lot  more  on  them  papers,  but 
I  know  all  I  want  to.     Good  day." 

A  few  days  after  Drusilla's  interview  with  the 
clerk,  John  Brierly  received  a  letter  in  the  hand 
writing  that,  although  a  little  feeble,  was  still 
familiar  to  him.  He  took  it  home  from  the  post- 
office  and  did  not  break  the  seal  until  he  was  in 
his  sitting-room.  Then  he  read  it. 

DEAR  JOHN  : 

I  jest  heard  where  you  are  and  how  you  are.  You 
are  alone  and  I'm  alone.  We  are  both  two  old  ships 
that  have  sailed  the  seas  alone  and  now  we're  nearing 
port.  Why  can't  we  make  the  rest  of  the  voyage  to 
gether?  I  have  a  home  a  great  deal  too  big  for  one 
lone  woman,  and  you  have  no  home  at  all.  Years  ago 
your  home  would  have  been  mine  if  you  could  a  give  it 
to  me,  and  now  I  want  to  share  mine  with  you.  I'm  not 
proposing  to  you,  John;  we're  too  old  to  think  of  such 
things,  but  I  do  want  to  die  with  my  hand  in  some  one's 
who  cares  for  me  and  who  I  care  for.  You're  the  only 
one  in  all  the  world  that's  left  from  out  my  past,  and 
I  want  you  near  me.  Won't  you  come  and  see  me? 
Then  we  can  talk  it  over,  and  if  you  don't  like  it  here 
you  can  go  back.  Come  to  me,  John.  Let  me  hear  by 
the  next  mail  that  you're  a  coming. 

DRUSILLA. 

P.  S.     If  you  don't  come  to  me,  I'll  come  to  you. 


126      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

This  is  a  threat,  John.     You  see  if  I  am  seventy  years 
old,  I'm  still  your  wilful  Drusilla. 

Drusilla  doubtless  would  have  passed  the  next 
few  days  anxiously  awaiting  an  answer  to  her 
letter  if  an  unforeseen  occurrence  had  not  driven 
all  thoughts  of  it  from  her  head.  Some  one  had 
told  the  newspapers  about  the  baby  left  on  her 
doorstep,  and  that  she  had  refused  to  send  it  to 
the  police,  and  one  morning  great  headlines 
stared  her  in  the  face:  DRUSILLA  DOANE  A 
TRUE  PHILANTHROPIST.  Again  she  saw  her 
picture  and  the  picture  of  the  house  in  Brookvale, 
and  read : 

I'll  send  no  baby  to  a  home.  I've  eaten  charity  bread 
and  it  was  bitter  and  charity  milk  would  be  the  same. 

That  started  for  Drusilla  a  strenuous  existence 
for  a  few  days.  The  next  morning  a  baby — a 
weak,  sickly  little  thing — was  found  beside  the 
locked  gates,  with  a  note  pinned  to  its  tiny  jacket. 
"Won't  you  please  take  my  baby  too?"  Drusilla 
took  it  into  her  motherly  arms,  looked  with  pity 
ing  eyes  into  its  little  white  pinched  face,  and 
sent  it  to  the  butler's  wife  until  she  could  deter 
mine  what  to  do  with  it.  The  next  morning  there 
were  two  babies  waiting ;  and  that  night  at  dinner 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       127 

the  butler  was  called  to  the  door  by  a  ring,  and 
when  he  opened  it,  he  found  a  little  boy  about  two 
years  of  age  standing  there  with  a  note  in  his 
hand.  The  grounds  were  searched  for  the  per 
son  who  had  brought  the  baby  and  left  it  stand 
ing  there,  but  no  one  was  found — and  he,  too,  was 
added  to  the  butler's  growing  family.  In  the 
next  week  eleven  children  were  brought  to  the 
house  in  aristocratic  Brookvale,  and  Drusilla  was 
frightened  at  the  inundation  of  young  that  she 
had  brought  upon  herself.  They  were  of  all 
kinds  and  all  descriptions.  There  were  John  and 
Hans  and  Gretchen,  and  Frieda  and  Mina  and 
Guiseppi,  Rachel,  Polvana,  Fra^ois;  even  a 
little  Greek  was  among  the  collection.  Their 
names  were  pinned  to  their  clothing,  along  with 
letters — some  pitiful  and  some  impertinent,  but 
all  asking  for  a  home  for  the  abandoned  child. 
Drusilla  was  dismayed  and  sent  for  the  young 
doctor,  as  Mr.  Thornton's  only  word  was  the  po 
lice  and  a  "home,"  to  both  of  which  Drusilla 
shook  her  old  gray  head  vigorously.  But  she 
saw  that  she  could  not  parcel  the  children  out  in 
definitely  among  the  servants,  and  consequently 
Dr.  Eaton  was  asked  to  come  and  help  her  decide 
what  should  be  done. 

When  he  came  in,  his  eyes  twinkled  mischie 
vously  at  Drusilla. 


128      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"I  hear  you  have  numerous  additions  to  the 
family,"  he  said. 

"Young  man,"  Drusilla  said,  "you  set  right 
there  and  tell  me  what  to  do.  You  got  me  in  all 
this  trouble.  Now  you  get  me  out  of  it." 

The  doctor  stopped  in  amazement. 

" I  got  you  in  this  trouble  ?  How  did  I  get  you 
in  this  trouble?" 

"Now,  don't  you  look  that  surprised  way  at 
me,"  said  Drusilla  severely.  "Didn't  you  tell  me 
all  about  orphan  asylums  and  babies  having  to  be 
all  dressed  in  the  same  way,  and  have  all  their 
hair  tied  with  blue  cord,  and  eat  porridge  out  of 
a  blue  bowl,  and  set  down  and  stand  up  and  go  to 
bed  at  the  ringin'  of  a  bell.  Didn't  you  tell  me 
that?" 

"Certainly;  I  said  a  few  things  like  that, 
but—" 

"And  didn't  you  make  my  foolish  old  eyes  jest 
fill  up  at  the  thought  of  any  baby  I'd  ever  held  in 
my  arms  goin'  to  a  place  like  that  and  bein'  turned 
into  a  little  jelly-mold- — them's  your  words,  a 
little  jelly-mold—" 

"Well — I  did  mention  jelly-molds,  but  still — " 

"And  didn't  you  make  me  feel  so  bad  that  I 
couldn't  let  Mr.  Thornton  give  that  blessed  little 
John  in  charge  and  be  sent  to  a  home?" 


"Why — why — you  had  already  decided;  but 
still—" 

"That's  the  third  time  you've  said,  'but  still,' 
and  I  don't  see  as  it  helps  me  any  now." 

"What '11 1  say,  Miss  Doane?" 

"You  jest  help  me  out  of  this  fix  I'm  in.  I  got 
eleven  babies  on  my  hands,  and  what  am  I  goin' 
to  do  with  'em?" 

"Well,  it  is  a  question,  isn't  it?" 

"No,  it  ain't  a  question;  it's  a  whole  book  of 
questions,  and  the  answers  ain't  found.  I  wash 
my  hands  of  it  all.  You  got  me  in ;  now  you  get 
me  out." 

And  Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  chair. 

"Why — why — you  put  rather  a  responsibility 
on  me.  What  does  Mr.  Thornton  say?" 

"Huh!"  Drusilla  nearly  snorted,  if  the  sound 
she  emitted  could  have  been  called  a  snort.  "He 
says  jest  what  you'd  suppose  he'd  say.  Send  for 
the  police  and  put  them  where  they  belong." 

"I  presume  he  is  right,"  said  Dr.  Eaton  a  little 
sadly.  "I  don't  see  what  else  you  can  do  with 
them;  unless — " 

"Unless  what?  If  that's  all  you  can  say,  I 
needn't  have  sent  for  you.  I've  heard  that  with 
every  baby  that's  come.  Now  I  want  somethin' 
different.  What's  your  'unless'  mean?" 


130      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Unless  you  keep  them,  Miss  Doane." 

"How'm  I  goin'  to  keep  eleven  babies  and  they 
comin'  faster  every  day?" 

"I  think  you  had  better  head  off  the  rest." 

"How  can  I  do  that?  They  jest  come  and 
there  ain't  no  one  to  give  'em  to." 

"We  will  put  a  policeman  on  guard  to  watch 
the  gates,  and  arrest  the  next  one  who  leaves  a 
bundle  or  a  basket." 

"I  hate  to  arrest  any  one,  but — perhaps  it's 
the  only  thing  to  do.  But  that  don't  help  none 
with  the  ones  I  got  now.  And,  Dr.  Eaton, 
they're  the  cunningest  lot  of  babies !  I  go  round 
every  night  to  see  'em  undressed.  I've  took 
more  exercise  trotting  to  the  different  houses 
where  I've  put  'em  just  to  look  at  'em  go  to  bed- 
well,  I  jest  can't  send  'em  to  a  home." 

"Why  should  you?  Now  let's  talk  sensibly, 
Miss  Doane.  What  are  your  plans  for  your  own 
life?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself? 
How  occupy  yourself?" 

"I  don't  occupy  myself.  I'm  jest  settin' 
around  waitin'  to  die;  and,  between  you  and  me 
and  the  gate-post,  Dr.  Eaton,  I'm  not  used  to 
jest  waitin'.  I'm  used  to  doin'  somethin'  if  I  am 
an  old  woman." 


"That's  just  it — you  are  used  to  doing  some 
thing.  Now  here's  something  that  you  can  do 
that's  worth  while.  There's  a  whole  lot  of  babies 
in  the  world  that  need  a  home,  and  why  can't 
you  take  your  share  of  them  and  give  them  a 
chance  in  life?" 

"How  can  I  give  them  a  chance?" 

"Why,  Miss  Doane,  who  could  give  them  a  bet 
ter  chance?  You  have  money — " 

"Yes — heaps  of  it;  and  I  set  wonderin'  what 
to  do  with  it.  I  want  to  spend  it  and  I  don't 
know  how." 

"How  can  you  spend  it  better  than  by  taking 
care  of  all  these  babies,  by  seeing  that  they'll  have 
love  and  care  instead  of  being  brought  up  by 
chance  or  charity,  which  is  bound  to  kill  every  de 
cent  instinct  a  child  may  be  born  with." 

Here  Dr.  Eaton  got  up  and  began  walking 
around  the  room.  His  eyes  grew  bright,  his 
voice  earnest  and  thrilling  to  the  old  woman  who 
watched  him  as  he  walked  up  and  down. 

"Miss  Doane,  you  have  a  wonderful  chance  to 
do  something  great.  I  envy  you  for  the  chance. 
Just  think  of  being  able  to  take  these  little  waifs 
and  provide  a  place  for  them  to  grow  up  into 
the  men  and  women  that  it  was  intended  they 
should  be!  Whenever  I  go  down  to  the  orphan 
asylum  and  see  all  the  little  tads  herded  around 


132      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

in  bunches  by  paid  nurses,  and  no  one  really  car 
ing  for  them,  no  one  tucking  them  up  at  night, 
no  one  singing  them  little  songs,  no  one  hearing 
their  evening  prayers,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  must 
take  them  all  away  with  me.  It  seems  that  we 
are  all  wrong  in  a  world  where  a  Great  Master 
whose  teaching  we  are  supposed  to  follow  said, 
'Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,'  when 
we  allow  them  to  be  turned  into  little  machines, 
unloved  and  uncared  for.  Oh,  Miss  Doane, 
you've  got  a  great  chance.  Take  it!" 

Drusilla  frankly  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"Dr.  Eaton,  you  almost  make  me  cry.  But 
where'll  I  put  'em?" 

"How  big  is  this  house?  You  don't  use  it  all, 
do  you?" 

"Use  it  all!  Well,  I  should  say  not.  I  feel 
like  a  pea  in  a  tin  can  shakin'  around  loose. 
Young  man,  there's  twelve  empty  bedrooms  in 
this  place  and  I  don't  know  how  many  other 
rooms  that's  goin'  to  waste." 

"There  you  are !  Why  not  fill  them  up?  Of 
what  use  are  they  lying  empty?" 

"That's  what  I  often  think,  and  I  wonder  why 
one  old  woman's  got  so  many  rooms  when  there's 
lots  of  people  ain't  got  no  place  to  go.  It  don't 
seem  jest  right." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      133 

"Of  course  it  isn't  right.  You've  too  much;  a 
great  many  have  nothing.  Now  even  up." 

"Who'll  I  git  to  take  care  of  'em?" 

"We'll  have  to  figure  that  out." 

"We'll  have  to  figure  it  out  mighty  sudden.  I 
got  them  young  ones  pretty  well  passeled  out 
among  the  hired  help,  and  they  ain't  enjyin' 
them  so  much  as  I  am.  First  thing  I  know  the 
hull  cahoots  of  'em'll  leave,  though  speakin'  for 
a  few  of  'em  it  wouldn't  cause  me  to  go  to  an  early 
grave  to  be  shet  of  some  of  'em." 

"I  must  be  off.  I'll  think  it  over  and  let  you 
know  what  I've  figured  out  for  you." 

"Well,  hurry  up  about  it.  It's  a  lot  to  think 
of.  I  never  thought  I'd  take  to  raisin'  children 
at  my  time  of  life;  but  you  never  can  tell  what 
you'll  end  as.  I'm  pretty  old  to  begin,  I'm 
afraid." 

"Come  now,  Miss  Doane;  don't  get  cold  feet. 
One  is  never  too  old  to  try  something.  If  it 
doesn't  work,  you  can  always  send  them  to  the 
police  that  Mr.  Thornton  tells  you  about. 
They're  always  there ;  so  are  the  homes." 

"Yes;  that's  so.  And  they  wouldn't  be  no 
worse  off'n  when  they  come.  Well — you  run 
along  and  start  somethin'." 

"Yes,  we'll  start  something,  Miss  Doane." 


134      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

Dr.  Eaton  went  away,  and  the  next  morning 
he  got  an  excited  telephone  call  from  Drusilla 
herself,  which  showed  that  it  was  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  her  and  even  overcame  her  dislike 
of  talking  into  a  "box,"  as  she  called  it. 

"Come  right  over,  Dr.  Eaton;  come  right  over 
at  once,"  she  said.  "I've  got  another  baby  and 
they've  caught  the  mother." 

Dr.  Eaton  lost  no  time  in  coming  to  Drusilla, 
.and  he  found  a  very  excited  little  woman,  with 
her  hat  and  gloves  on,  waiting  for  him. 

"Don't  come  in;  I'll  tell  you  on  the  way.  I've 
got  the  car  and  my  bunnet's  on,  so  we'll  go 
along." 

Drusilla  did  not  stop  to  explain  but  stepped 
into  the  car,  and  gave  directions  to  the  chauffeur. 

Dr.  Eaton  laughed. 

"Why  all  this  hurry,  Miss  Doane?  Is  some 
thing  afire?" 

"Yes;  I'm  afire,  and  I'm  mad!  They  put  a 
officer  of  some  kind  at  the  gate  last  night,  and 
this  morning  he  caught  a  woman  leavin'  a  baby. 
An'  how  do  you  suppose  he  caught  her?  The 
man  was  hid  and  couldn't  catch  the  woman  when 
the  baby  was  left,  and  he  waited  and  pinched  the 
baby  and  made  it  cry,  and  then  the  poor  little 
mother  who  was  waitin'  somewhere  to  see  her 
baby  took  in,  come  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       135 

and  they  took  her.  I  can  jest  see  it  all — the  poor 
little  mother  in  hidin',  waitin'  to  see  her  baby  took 
in  the  house,  and,  hearin'  it  cry,  her  mother  heart 
drew  it  back  to  comfort  it,  and  she  was  caught. 
Mr.  Thornton  tells  me  she  was  taken  to  court, 
and  that's  where  we're  a-goin'  this  minute.  I 
want  to  see  that  mother,  and  find  out  why  she  left 
the  baby." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  court,  Dr.  Eaton 
and  Drusilla  found  a  seat  up  near  the  front. 
They  were  wedged  in  between  wives  with  anxious 
faces  wondering  if  their  husbands  would  be  taken 
away  from  them,  or  wratching  them  pay  in  fines 
the  dollars  that  were  so  badly  needed  in  the 
home.  They  were  all  there,  those  hangers-on  of 
misery — the  policemen,  the  plain  clothes  men,  the 
probation  officers,  the  cheap  lawyers,  the  re 
porters.  Here  and  there  was  an  artist  or  a 
writer  looking  for  "copy,"  or  some  woman  from 
Fifth  Avenue  trying  to  get  a  new  sensation  from 
the  troubles  of  her  less  fortunate  sisters.  Over 
it  all  there  was  a  silence  that  was  heavy  and  dead. 
A  silence  born  of  fear — the  fear  of  the  law. 

Several  cases  were  called  before  the  case  for 
which  Drusilla  waited,  and  then  a  young  girl  not 
more  than  eighteen  years  old  rose  and  stood  be 
fore  the  Judge  with  a  baby  in  her  arms.  At  first 
she  was  so  frightened  that  she  could  not  answer 


136      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

the  questions;  but  the  Judge,  a  kindly  man, 
waited  for  her  to  become  more  calm,  and  then, 
in  a  quiet  voice,  he  began  to  question  her. 

"Now  do  not  be  frightened;  we  will  not  hurt 
you.  Just  tell  me  why  you  left  the  baby." 

The  scared  voice  spoke  so  low  that  her  words 
could  scarcely  be  heard. 

"I  didn't  know  it  was  wrong." 

"If  you  didn't  know  it  was  wrong,  why  did  you 
hide?" 

"I — I — wanted  to  see  that  nothin'  happened  to 
her.  I  kind  of — kind  of — wanted  to  see  her  as 
long  as  I  could.  She's  my  baby — and — and— 
I  wouldn't  see  her  again — and  I  just  kind  of 
waited  round—  Here  the  girl  started  to  cry. 
"I  didn't  know  it  was  wrong.  There  was  noth 
ing  else  to  do.  I — I — " 

"You  were  willing  to  give  her  away,  yet  you 
cared  enough  to  go  to  her  when  she  cried.  I 
don't  understand  it." 

"I  don't  know,  but  she  cried  and  I  thought 
somethin'  might  be  hurtin'  her  or  she  wasn't  cov 
ered  up  warm  enough — and  I  wanted  to  touch 
her  again — and — and — " 

"But  if  you  feel  that  way,  how  could  you  leave 
her?" 

"What  was  I  to  do  with  her?  I  couldn't  take 
her  back  home.  I  come  from  the  country  and  I 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       137 

couldn't  go  back  with  a  baby.  No  one  would 
speak  to  me,  and  it  would  hurt  Mother  so.  I  jest 
couldn't.  She's  only  two  weeks  old,  and  you 
know  when  you  leave  the  hospital  with  a  baby 
two  weeks  old  in  your  arms,  and  you  can't  go 
home  and  you've  no  money,  what  are  you  goin' 
to  do?" 

And  she  turned  the  tear-stained,  questioning 
face  of  a  child  up  to  the  Judge. 

"What  were  you  going  to  do  if  the  baby  was 
taken  in?" 

"I'd  have  tried  to  get  work  somewhere,  but  you 
can't  get  work  with  a  baby." 

"Have  you  no  friends?" 

"No;  only  some  girls  in  the  store  where  I 
worked." 

"How  did  you  come  to  leave  the  baby  where 
you  did?" 

"A  girl  in  the  hospital  read  in  a  paper  about 
an  old  lady  who  had  no  children  and  who  took 
a  baby  left  on  her  doorstep,  and  so  I  left  mine, 
thinking  that  if  she  saw  her  once,  she  is  so  pretty 
that  she'd  have  to  love  her,  and  she'd  have  a 
chance  to  grow  up  like  other  girls.  And  I'd  'a' 
gone  to  work  feeling  that  my  baby  had  a  home 
which  I  knowed  I  couldn't  give  her." 

"But  why  didn't  you  go  to  some  of  the  homes 
that  are  open  to  girls  like  you?" 


"Homes?     I  didn't  know  of  any." 

"There  are  many  institutions  that  would  have 
helped  you.  Didn't  any  one  tell  you  about 
them?" 

"No;  I  wouldn't  talk  much  with  people.  I 
was  afraid  that  they'd  send  word  to  Mother,  and 
I  didn't  want  her  to  know  and  feel  bad,  so  I  didn't 
talk  about  myself.  It's  been  awful  hard — "  and 
the  babyish  lips  began  to  tremble. 

"Do  you  want  to  keep  the  baby?" 

The  girl's  face  brightened. 

"Do  I  want  to — do  I  want  to —  But  I  can't ! 
They  tell  me  there's  no  place  for  a  girl  with  a 
baby." 

"Will  you  work?" 

"Oh,  Judge,"  and  she  drew  the  baby  closer  to 
her,  "jest  give  me  a  chance!  I'll  work  my 
fingers  off  for  her.  She's  all  I've  got  now,  and— 
I'm — I'm — so  lonely." 

The  Judge  started  to  say  something,  but  he 
was  interrupted  by  a  little  old  lady  rising  from 
one  of  the  seats. 

"Judge,  jest  you  give  me  that  girl  and  the 
baby.  I'll  take  her." 

The  Judge  looked  over  his  glasses  at  the  ex 
cited,  flushed  face  of  the  old  lady  in  front  of  him. 

"What's  that?" 

"I  said,  jest  you  give  me  that  girl  and  the 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       139 

baby,  and  I'll  take  her.  I'll  take  her  right  home 
with  me." 

The  Judge  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence; 
then  the  young  man  beside  the  lady  came  forward 
and  said: 

"May  I  speak  with  you  a  moment,  Judge 
Carlow?" 

There  was  a  whispered  conference  between  the 
Judge,  Dr.  Eaton,  and  the  kindly-faced,  white- 
haired  probation  officer,  and  then  the  Judge 
turned  to  the  young  girl. 

"Discharged  in  care  of  Miss  Dmsilla  Doane," 
he  said. 

The  girl  and  her  baby  came  with  the  doctor 
through  the  gates  which  separated  those  who  were 
entwined  in  the  meshes  of  the  law  from  the  on 
lookers;  then,  stopping  to  get  Drusilla,  Dr. 
Eaton  and  his  charge  left  the  court-room. 

The  wondering  girl  was  placed  in  the  motor 
and  whirled  swiftly  toward  Brookvale. 

Drusilla  was  quiet  for  a  time.     Then: 

"Dr.  Eaton,"  she  said,  "I  believe  we've  found 
our  nurses.  Here's  our  first  one.  Why  can't 
we  find  the  other  mothers  ?" 

"I  am  afraid  that  would  be  rather  difficult." 

"Difficulties  are  made  to  get  around.  If  this 
young  girl  is  willin'  to  work  to  be  with  her  baby, 
some  of  the  other  mothers  must  be  the  same. 


Perhaps  some  of  'em  was  in  just  the  same  fix 
as  this  one.  Now,  look  at  that  letter  of  John's 
mother.  It  sounded  as  if  she  wouldn't  'a'  left 
him  if  she  could  'a'  got  work  to  keep  him.  Why 
can't  we  git  as  many  mothers  as  we  can  and  have 
them  nurse  the  children?  We  got  to  have  nurses 
of  some  kind,  and  the  mothers'd  be  better  than 
jest  hired  girls." 

"It's  a  good  idea,  Miss  Doane;  but  how  can  we 
get  them?  They  naturally  didn't  leave  their  ad 
dresses." 

"We'll  advertise  in  the  papers." 

"But  that  would  scare  them;  they  would  be 
afraid  it  would  be  a  trap  to  get  them  arrested." 

"Say  in  the  papers  that  we  won't  arrest  'em, 
but  that  we'll  give  'em  a  chance  to  support  their 
babies  and  live  with  them  while  they're  doin'  it. 
Tell  'em  I  give  my  word  that  nothin'll  happen  to 
'em.  Git  that  young  man  that  talked  to  me 
once.  He  said  he'd  do  anything  for  me  I  asked 
him.  Git  him  to  write  it  all  up." 

Dr  Eaton  pondered  thoughtfully  for  a  few 
moments. 

"It  might  work,  and  again  it  might  not." 

"Well,  there  ain't  no  harm  tryin'.     Fix  up  a 
good  advertisement  and  put  it  in  all  the  papers- 
Dutch,  Italian,  French  and  Irish.     The  babies 
are  all  kinds." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      141 

By  the  time  they  arrived  at  the  big  house  in 
Brookvale  Drusilla  was  very  much  interested  in 
her  new  scheme. 

"No,"  she  said  firmly  to  Dr.  Eaton  when  he 
intimated  that  he  must  leave;  "you  ain't  goin' 
now.  Jest  you  come  with  me.  Jane,  you  take 
this  girl  and  this  baby  up  to  one  of  the  spare 
rooms  and  see  she  has  a  bath  and  the  baby  some 
milk.  Have  you  had  your  dinner?  No;  of 
course  not.  Jane,  git  her  somethin'  to  eat — 
somethin'  solid ;  not  them  finicky  things  the  cook 
makes.  Git  her  all  fixed  up;  then  come  to  me. 
Dr.  Eaton,  you  come  with  me  to  that  big  room  I 
was  a  lookin'  at  the  other  day. 

She  led  the  way  to  the  third  floor,  where  there 
was  a  big  billiard  room. 

"Isn't  this  just  the  right  kind  of  a  room  for 
babies?"  she  exclaimed.  "Look  at  them  windows 
to  let  the  sun  in !  Now,  how  many  beds  can  I  put 
here  ?  We'll  take  them  big  tables  out  and  we  can 
put  a  lot  of  beds  side  by  side ;  and  the  nurse  can 
sleep  in  this  room  here  that  opens  out  of  it,  with 
the  littlest  babies  near  her." 

The  doctor  looked  at  the  room. 

"It  seems  made  for  a  nursery,  doesn't  it?"  he 
commented.  "Let's  see.  You  could  put  six 
little  beds  along  each  side,  and  a  couple  in  the 
other  room  with  the  nurse's  bed.  That  would 


more    than    dispose    of    your    dozen    already." 

"And  I  been  a- worry  in'  what  to  do  with  'em 
all  when  I  got  this  room!  I  ought  'a'  been 
ashamed  of  myself!  Now,  you  run  right  along 
and  order  the  things  we  need — beds  and  what 
ever  babies  should  have — and  send  them  right  up. 
Tell  the  storekeepers  that  they  must  git  here  at 
once  or  I  won't  take  'em.  I  can  jest  see  James's 
face  when  I  tell  him  his  wife  won't  need  to  keep 
them  five  babies  he's  got  any  longer.  I'll  go  and 
take  my  bunnet  off  and  help  move." 

Within  the  next  two  days  twelve  little  beds 
were  established  in  the  billiard  room,  and  the 
little  mother  was  installed  as  first  nurse,  with 
Jane  and  a  couple  of  girls  hired  as  assistants. 

That  evening  Drusilla  was  sitting  down  to  din 
ner — or  supper,  as  she  called  it — when  Mr. 
Thornton  was  ushered  in.  He  was  more  severe 
and  uncompromising  than  ever,  and  Drusilla 
said  to  herself,  "I'm  in  for  it.  He's  heard  some- 
thin'."  ' 

But  she  did  not  show  that  she  was  a  wee  bit 
nervous.  She  said,  as  if  it  were  the  usual  thing 
for  him  to  make  her  an  evening  call, 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Thornton?  Won't 
you  have  some  supper  with  me?" 

"No,  thank  you.     I  came  to  talk  with  you." 

"Now,  that's  real  nice  of  you.     I  always  like 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       143 

to  talk.  Set  right  down  and  we'll  have  a  com 
fortable  visit.  You'd  better  change  your  mind 
and  have  some  supper." 

"No;  my  dinner  is  waiting  for  me." 

"I  eat  my  dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
though  James  will  call  it  lunch.  I  think  a  great 
big  dinner  at  night  makes  you  dream  of  your 
grandmother,  so  I  have  mine  like  I  used  to." 

"I  understand  that  you  have  been  to  court,  and 
brought  home  with  you  that  woman  and  her 
child." 

"Well,  well!  How  news  does  travel!  How 
did  you  hear  that?" 

"It  is  in  the  evening  papers." 

"Is  it?  Well,  I  do  declare!  It  seems  I  can't 
do  nothin'  but  what  I  git  in  the  papers.  I  don't 
need  to  talk  to  git  writ  up ;  my  money  talks  for 
me.  What  did  they  say?" 

The  lawyer  drew  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  Drusilla.  She  took  her  glasses 
from  her  forehead,  where  they  had  been«-resting, 
and  read  aloud:  Miss  DRUSILLA  DOANE,  THE 
FRIEND  OF  THE  FRIENDLESS. 

"Well,  ain't  that  nice  of  'em!"  she  stopped  to 
comment;  then  she  went  on  reading. 

"They  seem  to  have  it  all  down,"  she  said, 
handing  the  paper  back  to  Mr.  Thornton. 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  air  he  used  when 


trying  to  frighten  witnesses  who  opposed  him. 

"Of  course,  you  will  deny  all  this.  You  will 
make  a  statement  that  it  is  all  a  mistake,  and 
that  you  do  not  intend  to  give  these — these — 
wanderers  a  home." 

"Now,  that's  a  good  word,  Mr.  Thornton; 
that's  jest  what  they  are — wanderers.  But  they 
won't  be  wanderers  no  more;  they've  found  a 
home." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Jest  what  I  said,  Mr.  Thornton.  I  mean  to 
give  that  mother  and  her  baby  a  home." 

"I  do  not  understand  you  at  all,  Miss  Doane; 
or  at  least  I  hope  I  am  mistaken  in  your  mean- 
ing." 

"I  talk  plain  American." 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  send  those  chil 
dren  that  have  been  left  here  to  the  proper  au 
thorities. 

"Well,  I'm  an  authority — or  at  least  I  seem  to 
be  one  since  I  got  all  this  money ;  and  no  one  ain't 
ever  said  I  wasn't  proper." 

"You  are  evading  the  question.  I  have  said 
with  the  advent  of  each  child  that  it  should  be 
sent,  along  with  the  others,  to  the  police.  They 
would  dispose  of  them  in  the  homes  ordained  for 
them." 

"I  ain't  a  Presbyterian,  Mr.  Thornton,  and  I 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      145 

don't  believe  in  predestination  and  foreordina- 
tion.  Them  babies  of  mine  was  never  ordained 
for  a  home — the  kind  you  mean;  and  I  won't  put 
'em  there.  I  got  room  and  I  got  money  to  feed 
'em  and  clothe  'em;  so  why  shouldn't  I  keep  'em?" 

"It  is  quite  impossible,  quite  impossible!" 

"Why  impossible?" 

"Why — why — my  late  client,  Mr.  Elias 
Doane— " 

"Now,  don't  throw  him  in  my  teeth  again. 
Elias  Doane  don't  care  whether  I  keep  babies  or 
poodle  dogs,  and  I  like  babies  best.  Now,  don't 
let's  quarrel,  Mr.  Thornton,"  as  she  saw  him  give 
an  exasperated  shake  of  his  head  and  rise  as  if  to 
go.  "Set  still  and  talk  it  over  with  me  calm 
like.  Can't  you  see  my  side  to  it?  I'm  old  and 
I'm  lonesome,  and  I've  always  wanted  babies  but 
the  Lord  didn't  see  fit  to  let  me  have  'em,  and 
now  He's  sent  me  these.  I  feel  that  I'd  be  a 
goin'  against  His  plans  if  I  didn't  keep  'em. 
My  old  heart's  jest  full  of  love  that's  goin'  to 
waste,  and  I  want  to  give  it  to  some  one,  and," 
laughing,  "I  can't  waste  much  of  it  on  you,  can 
I?  I  don't  want  to  die  with  it  all  shet  up  inside 
of  me.  I  want  to  love  these  babies  and  learn  'em 
to  love  me.  Why,  what  chance  will  a  baby  brung 
up  in  a  'home'  have  to  know  about  love?  How 
can  they  ever  be  learnt  of  the  love  of  God  when 


146      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

they  grow  up,  if  they  don't  learn  something  about 
love  when  they're  little.  They  won't  know  the 
word.  Don't  be  so  set  against  it,  Mr.  Thorn 
ton" — she  looked  at  him  pleadingly  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  her  eyes  twinkled — "though  it  won't 
do  you  much  good  as  I'm  set  on  this  and  I'm  goin' 
to  do  it.  Your  late  client,  Mr.  Elias  Doane,  said, 
'Spend  my  money,  Drusilla,  in  your  own  way'; 
and  I'm  takin'  him  at  his  word." 

Mr.  Thornton  rose. 

"Nothin  more  can  be  said  then;  but  it  is  a  dis 
grace  to  the  neighborhood  to  have  a  home  for 
waifs  come  to  it." 

Drusilla  flushed  hotly. 

"Don't  you  call  it  that;  and  don't  you  call  it  a 
'home' !  It's  a  home,  but  not  the  kind  you  mean,, 
and  I  won't  hear  it  called  that." 

"I  wash  my  hands  of  the  affair.  You  will  get 
into  trouble,  and  when  you  do  you  may  call  on 
me." 

Drusilla  rose  and  laid  her  hand  on  Mr.  Thorn 
ton's  arm. 

"I'm  sure  to  get  into  trouble,"  she  said.  "I 
always  was  a  hand  to  do  that.  But  when  I  do 
you'll  be  the  true,  kind  friend  I  know  you  are,  and 
help  me  out." 

Mr.  Thornton  smiled,  against  his  will,  as  he 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       147 

looked  down  into  the  earnest  face  of  the  little  old 
lady.  He  patted  the  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Miss  Doane,  you  are  causing  me  a  lot  of 
trouble  not  connected  with  the  business  of  the 
estate ;  but  of  course  I'll  always  help  you.  Every 
one  will — they  can't  help  it." 

Drusilla  drew  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I'm  glad  to  know  you  ain't  agin  me,  'cause 
I  like  you,  even  when  you  almost  always  come 
here  to  scold  me.  You  ain't  near  so  stiff  inside 
as  you  are  outside.  We're  friends  now,  ain't  we, 
babies  or  no  babies?" 

Mr.  Thornton  bent  and  kissed  the  withered  old 
hand. 

"Always,  Miss  Doane,  babies  or  no  babies ;  but 
you  had  better— 

"Never  mind!  You  run  along.  Your  din 
ner's  cold  by  now.  What  you  want  to  say'll 
keep  till  next  time,  and  I  know  it  ain't  near  as 
nice  as  what  you  said  last.  Good  night." 


CHAPTER  VII 

JOHN  BRIERLY  came. 
He  first  wrote  Drusilla  a  long  letter  and 
Drusilla  answered  it  by  telegraph — an  answer 
that  brought  a  reminiscent  s>mile  to  John  Brierly's 
lips.     It  read : 

tel  can't  talk  by  letter.    Just  come." 

And  John  came. 

He  was  met  at  the  station  by  the  young  man 
from  the  lawyer's  office  who  had  been  to  see  him 
in  Cliveden,  and  when  he  arrived  at  the  house 
he  found  Drusilla  awaiting  him.  After  the 
young  man  left,  Drusilla  said : 

"John,  come  upstairs;  I  want  to  look  at  you, 
and  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

She  took  him  up  to  the  small  library,  which 
looked  very  cozy  with  its  fire  in  the  big  grate 
and  the  heavy  English  curtains  drawn  at  the  win 
dows. 

"Now  set  down  there  in  that  chair,  John.  It 
was  made  for  a  man — no  woman  could  ever  get 
out  of  it  without  help  once  she  got  in — and  tell 
me  all  about  yourself,  John." 

148 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      149 

John  looked  around  the  luxurious  room  in  a 
hesitating  manner. 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,  Drusilla — I  can't 
understand  all  this — I  can't  understand." 

"Never  mind,  John ;  it's  all  real.  I  know  how 
you  feel.  I  felt  that  way  myself  for  the  first  few 
weeks ;  but  now  I'm  gettin'  used  to  it." 

"Is — is — this  place  yours,  Drusilla?" 

"Yes,  it's  mine.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  to 
morrow,  but  now  I  just  want  to  talk  to  you  and 
about  you.  You  want  to  smoke,  don't  you? 
Light  your  pipe  and  be  comfortable.  It'll  make 
you  think  better." 

John  laughed. 

"I  do  want  to  smoke." 

He  drew  his  pipe  from  some  pocket  and  filled 
it  from  a  worn  tobacco  pouch. 

Drusilla  watched  him  interestedly. 

"Now  I  know  what  this  room  needed.  It 
needs  tobacco.  It'll  make  the  curtains  smell  as 
if  people  lived  here.  You  know  the  greatest 
trouble  I  find  with  this  place,  John,  is  to  have  it 
feel  human.  Everything  is  so  sort  of — sort  of — 
dead — with  just  me  a-creepin'  round,  and  James 
and  William  tip-toein',  and  the  hired  girls  never 
speakin*  except  to  say,  'No,  ma'am'  or  'Yes, 
ma'am.'  Why,  sometimes  I'd  like  to  hear  some 
body  drop  something  or  get  mad,  or  stomp,  or  do 


150      DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

somethin*  as  if  they  was  alive.  Here,  help  me 
pull  up  the  chair  closer  by  the  fire,  where  I  can 
see  you  without  putting  on  my  specs.  There, 
that  is  comfortable.  Now  tell  me  all  about  your 
self." 

John  looked  into  the  fire  dreamily. 

"Drusilla,  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  a  failure. 
Your  mother  was  right;  I've  been  always  a 
dreamer  and  a  failure." 

Drusilla  leaned  toward  him. 

"Never  you  mind,  John.  So  long  as  you 
haven't  been  a  dreamer  and  a  democrat,  I  can 
stand  it.  I  never  could  abide  democrats.  Why 
didn't  you  ever  marry?" 

John  looked  at  her. 

"I  couldn't,  Drusilla." 

Drusilla  flushed  at  the  look  in  his  face  and  sat 
back  in  her  chair. 

"Oh— Oh— " 

John  said  again,  earnestly:  "I  just  couldn't, 
Drusilla.  When  I  got  you  out  of  my  heart 
enough  to  look  at  another  woman,  I  was  too  old 
to  care." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  Drusilla 
asked,  to  turn  the  conversation  into  another 
channel. 

"What  I  have  done  for  the  last  few  years — sit 
quietly  by  and  wait  for  the  messenger  to  come." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       151 

"Stuff  and  nonsense,  John!  I  don't  believe 
in  waitin'  for  messengers.  That's  meetin'  them 
half  way.  I  believe  in  bein'  so  busy  that  he'll 
have  a  hard  time  to  catch  up  to  me." 

"But  I'm  old,  Drusilla,  and—" 

"Old,  nothin'  of  the  sort!  You  ain't  but  two 
years  older'n  me  and  I'm  jest  beginnin'  to  live. 
Why  I've  jest  took  to  raisin'  children,  John,  and 
I'm  goin'  to  watch  'em  grow  up ;  so  I  can't  afford 
to  think  about  being  old  or  dyin'.  I  got  to  see 
these  babies  get  started  someway." 

John  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"Yes,  you're  surprised — so's  everybody — and 
it  kind  of  tickles  me  to  surprise  people.  I've  had 
to  do  the  things  expected  of  me  all  my  life;  I 
couldn't  afford  to  surprise  no  one;  so  I  feel  like 
I'm  breaking  out  now,  and — and—  '  laughing, 
"I  like  it,  John— I  like  it.  Why,  when  Mr. 
Thornton  stands  up  so  stiff  and  straight  and 
makes  his  mouth  square  and  hard  to  say,  'Impos 
sible!3  why — why — my  toes  kind  of  wiggle 
around  in  delight  like  the  babies  do  when  you 
hold  'em  to  the  fire.  But  I  don't  want  to  talk 
about  myself;  we  got  lots  of  time  to  do  that.  I 
want  to  know  what  you  intend  doin'." 

"Nothing,  Drusilla.  I  have  enough  to  live  on 
in  my  little  town;  and  with  my  books,  and — " 

"But,  John,  you  can't  live  with  jest  books." 


152      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"That's  aU  I  have  left,  Drusilla.  All  my 
friends  are  gone." 

"That's  what  I  wanted  to  hear.  You  ain't 
got  no  one  that  draws  your  heart  back  to  that 
place  in  Ohio,  have  you?" 

"No  one  in  the  world,  Drusilla." 

Drusilla  settled  back  into  her  chair  and  gave 
a  sigh  of  contentment. 

"Then  what  I've  been  dreamin'  of  ever  sence 
I  saw  your  name  in  the  paper  can  come  true." 

"What  have  you  been  a-dreaming  of,  Dru 
silla?" 

Drusilla  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  looking 
thoughtfully  into  the  fire.  Then  she  said  softly : 

"Ever  sence  I  knew  you  was  alive,  and  after 
I  sent  that  young  man  out  to  you  and  he  told  me 
about  you,  I  jest  been  dreamin'  of  seein'  you  set- 
tin'  there,  smokin'  your  pipe,  and  me  a-settin' 
here,  talkin'  to  you,  and  I  have  come  into  this 
room  more  the  last  two  weeks,  lookin'  at  it, 
thinkin'  how  it  would  look  with  your  things  layin' 
around.  You  are  alone,  John,  and  I'm  alone. 
As  I  wrote  you,  we  are  both  two  old  ships  that 
have  sailed  the  seas  alone  for  all  these  years, 
and  now  we're  nearin'  port.  Why  can't  we  make 
the  rest  of  the  voyage  together?  I  have  a  home 
too  big  for  one  lone  woman;  you  have  no  home 
at  all.  Years  ago  your  home  would  'a'  been 


DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION      153 

mine,  if  you  could  'a'  give  it  to  me;  and  now  I 
want  to  share  mine  with  you.  No — don't  start," 
as  she  saw  John  make  a  movement,  "I  ain't  pro- 
posin'  to  you,  John.  We're  too  old  to  think  of 
such  things,  but  I  want  to  die  with  my  hand  in 
some  one's  who  cares  for  me  and  who  I  care  for. 
You're  the  only  one  in  all  the  world  that's  left 
from  out  my  past,  and  I  want  you  near  me." 

"But,  Brasilia—" 

"Don't  interrupt  me,  John.  I  want  you  to 
live  here  near  me.  These  rooms  are  a  man's 
rooms.  I  want  to  see  a  man  in  'em;  and,  John, 
you're  the  man  I  want." 

"But,  Brasilia— " 

"Now,  John,"  raising  her  faded  hand,  "don't 
argue  with  me.  I  can  see  it's  took  you  by  sur 
prise.  But  why  shouldn't  you  live  here,  and  me 
across  the  hall;  and  evenings,  wrhen  the  time  is 
long,  we  can  set  before  the  fire  like  this  and  talk 
of  the  past.  It's  lonely,  John,  with  no  one." 

"But,  Drusilla,  I  couldn't— I  couldn't—" 

"Couldn't  what,  John?  Couldn't  you  be 
happy  here?" 

"It  isn't  that." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Drusilla,  I  couldn't  accept  even  your  char 
ity." 

"Now,  John,  I  was  afraid  you'd  say  somethin' 


154      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

like  that.  When  I  was  young,  when  we  were 
young  together,  I'd  'a'  give  you  all  my  life. 
What  is  a  roof  and  the  food  you  eat,  compared 
to  what  I'd  'a'  give  you  if  things  had  been  dif 
ferent?" 

"But,  Drusilla— " 

"Yes,  I  know  all  you'd  say.  But  see,  John. 
I  have  more'n  I  can  ever  spend,  though,  good 
ness  knows,  I'm  goin'  to  do  my  best ;  and  there's 
some  things  I  can't  buy,  John.  I  can't  buy  com 
panionship  and  friends,  John ;  and  that's  what  we 
are,  jest  two  old  friends.  We've  drifted  far 
apart,  and  now  the  winds  has  brought  us  to 
gether  again,  let's  anchor  side  by  side." 

They  were  both  silent,  staring  into  the  fire. 
Then  Drusilla  rose. 

"Now  we  won't  talk  of  it  no  more.  These  are 
your  rooms.  I  want  you  to  do  what  you  want  to 
do.  If  you'd  feel  that  you  could  be  happy  here, 
send  for  your  books  and  call  this  home,  'cause  re 
member,  John,"  and  she  went  up  to  him  and 
standing  back  of  his  chair  put  her  hand  around 
his  head  until  it  rested  on  his  face,  "remember, 
John,  I  always  want  you." 

John  reached  up  and  covered  the  soft  little 
hand  with  one  of  his  for  a  moment,  then  he 
brought  it  down  and  kissed  it. 

Drusilla  turned  and  left  the  room. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       155 

The  next  few  days  were  happy  days  for  Dru- 
silla.  She  took  great  pride  in  showing  John  the 
place,  and  they  spent  long  hours  in  the  gallery 
studying  and  discussing  the  pictures.  The  armor 
room  was  John's  especial  delight,  after  the  li 
brary.  He  found  a  book  on  armor  and  learned 
the  rules  of  chivalry.  Drusilla  said  she 
could  always  tell  where  to  find  him — "a-studyin' 
them  tin  clothes." 

One  sunshiny  day  they  decided  to  visit  the 
Doane  home.  John  did  not  want  to  go  where 
there  were  so  many  women,  but  Drusilla  insisted. 

"I  want  'em  to  see  a  man,  John.  They're 
shet  up  all  day  with  nothin'  but  women,  and 
they're  tired  of  seein'  'em." 

"But  I'm  an  old  man,  Drusilla." 

"Never  mind  how  old  you  are,  you're  a  man, 
and  any  man'll  look  good  to  them.  Even  if 
most  of  the  ladies  is  past  seventy,  they  ain't 
dead  yet  and  they're  still  women.  You'll  see 
how  they'll  set  up  and  take  notice;  Miss  Lo- 
dema'll  smooth  back  her  hair  as  soon  as  you  step 
on  the  porch.  I  want  to  give  'em  some  real 
pleasure.  Barbara'd  like  to  talk  to  you  better'n 
gettin'  new  teeth  even.  We'll  take  the  big  car 
and  take  as  many  as  we  can  git  in  it  out  for  a 
ride." 

Drusilla  had  the  cook  make  some  cakes,  for, 


156      DRUSILLA    WITH   A    MILLION 

as  she  confided  to  John,  "I  ain't  a-goin'  to  take 
'em  a  thing  sensible.  They  git  that  every  day. 
I'm  goin'  to  have  the  cook  make  'em  as  big  cakes 
as  he  can,  and  put  lots  of  frostin'  and  chocolate 
on  'em;  and  I've  sent  to  town  for  twenty  pounds 
of  candy — the  real  fancy  kind,  that'll  quite 
likely  make  'em  all  sick,  but  they'll  love  it;  and 
I've  bought  'em  a  lot  of  things  they  don't  need 
and  that  no  one  would  think  of  givin'  'em. 
They're  going  to  have  a  real  party  when  I  come 
to  see  'em,  John." 

Drusilla  was  as  excited  as  a  child  about  her 
visit;  but  her  excitement  did  not  equal  that  of 
the  old  ladies  when  Drusilla  was  seen  driving 
into  the  grounds  in  a  big  limousine  with  a  man 
beside  her. 

The  women  clustered  around  her  and  chat 
tered  and  talked  and  asked  questions,  and  fin 
gered  their  gifts  like  a  group  of  children  at  a 
visit  of  Santa  Claus.  After  lunch  Drusilla  an 
nounced  that  five  of  the  old  ladies  should  go  with 
her  to  the  near-by  city,  where  she  was  going  to 
take  Barbara  to  a  dentist. 

"I  don't  want  the  dentist  that  would  come 
here  to  see  the  'inmates.'  He'd  give  charity 
teeth.  I  want  Barbara  to  have  real  teeth,  so's 
she  can  chew  a  bone  if  she  wants  to,  and  I  want 
to  take  Grandma  Perkins.  She's  never  been  in 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      157 

a  motor  and  she's  near  ninety,  so  she'd  better 
hurry  up  or  she'll  be  ridin'  in  a  chariot  and  after 
that  a  motorcar  wouldn't  be  excitin'." 

The  old  ladies  were  bundled  up,  Grandma 
Perkins  was  carried  out  to  the  car,  and  they  were 
off  to  the  city  about  twenty  miles  away.  The 
women  were  awed  at  first,  and  rather  uneasy, 
some  of  them  a  little  frightened.  Drusilla 
watched  Grandma  Perkins,  to  see  that  she  was 
not  nervous;  but  after  a  few  miles  had  been 
passed,  the  old  lady  sat  up  straighter  in  her 
shawls,  and  her  eyes  became  bright. 

"Drusilla,"  she  asked,  "how  fast  are  we 
goin'?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Drusilla  said.  "We'll  ask 
the  man." 

Twenty-five  miles  an  hour,  the  chauffeur  told 
them. 

"We'll  go  slower  if  it  scares  you,  Grandma," 
Drusilla  said  gently. 

The  old  lady  looked  at  her  with  scorn. 

"Scares  me,  nothin'!  I  was  only  wonderin'  if 
we  couldn't  go  f aster  1" 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"That's  jest  what  I  said  when  I  first  rode  in 
the  car  with  Mr.  Thornton." 

She  gave  the  order  and  the  car  sped  swiftly 
over  the  macadam  road.  The  old  lady  settled 


158      DRUSILLA   WITH    A   MILLION 

back  among  her  shawls,  a  look  of  absolute  happi 
ness  on  her  wrinkled  old  face. 

They  arrived  at  the  city  all  too  soon.  Bar 
bara  was  taken  to  the  dentist,  and  Drusilla  had 
the  other  ladies  taken  to  a  tea  shop  and  given 
tea  while  she  waited  for  Barbara. 

After  tea  they  started  home. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  back,  Drusilla,"  Grandma 
Perkins  began  to  whimper.  "Must  we  go  back 
right  away?" 

Drusilla  looked  puzzled. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Where'll  we  go 
if  we  don't  go  back?"  She  thought  a  moment. 
"I'll  ask  Joseph;  he  always  knows  everything." 
She  turned  to  the  waiting  chauffeur.  "Joseph, 
we  don't  want  to  go  home.  Ain't  there  anything 
we  can  see?" 

Joseph  looked  at  the  five  old  ladies,  evidently 
at  a  loss  as  to  what  would  please  them;  then  a 
suggestion  occurred  to  him. 

"You  might  go  to  a  moving-picture  show." 

"What's  that?" 

"It's— it's  a  kind  of  theater." 

"Well,  I  ain't  never  seen  one,"  said  Drusilla; 
and  turned  to  the  old  ladies,  who  were  waiting 
patiently  to  learn  of  their  final  disposal.  "Do 
you  want  to  go  to  a  movin'-picture  show?" 

"What's  that?"  came  in  chorus. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       159 

"I  don't  know  myself,  but  it's  a  sort  of — sort 
of—" 

"Never  mind  what  it  is,  we  want  to  go." 

"Yes,  let's  go,  Drusilla;  let's  not  go  home." 

And  the  patrons  of  the  moving-picture  house 
had  a  view  of  six  old  ladies,  piloted  by  a  smartly 
dressed  chauffeur,  who  saw  them  seated  in  a  box 
and  then  left  them.  It  was  really  a  very  good 
moving-picture,  and  if  the  actors  could  have  seen 
the  delight  of  the  box  party  they  would  have  felt 
they  had  not  toiled  in  vain.  They  sat  for  two 
hours  entranced  by  the  scenes  that  passed  before 
them  on  the  screen.  One  of  the  plays  was  a 
war-time  drama,  and  the  old  ladies  were  quite 
likely  the  only  ones  in  the  house  to  whom  the  blue 
and  the  gray  brought  memories. 

At  the  end  of  the  reel,  Drusilla  decided  that 
they  should  be  leaving,  as  supper  would  be  ready 
at  the  home.  One  of  the  old  ladies  objected. 

"Let's  not  go  home,  Drusilla;  let's  miss  sup 
per." 

"It's  bean  night,  anyway,"  said  another. 
"Let's  stay." 

Five  pairs  of  dim  old  eyes  looked  at  Drusilla 
beseechingly. 

"Well,  we'll  stay  just  a  little  while  longer," 
she  concluded. 

The  little  while  quite  likely  would  have  been 


160      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

ihe  rest  of  the  evening  if  the  performance  had 
not  finished  for  the  afternoon.  They  rose  with 
a  sigh  and  left  the  theater.  When  they  started 
to  help  Grandma  Perkins  into  the  car,  she 
stopped  with  one  foot  on  the  step. 

"Drusilla,  I  want  to  ride  with  the  man,"  she 
said. 

"Oh,  but,  Grandma,  you'd  catch  cold,"  Dru 
silla  objected. 

"I  wouldn't,"  she  wailed,  "and  I  want  to.  I 
might  jest  as  well  die  fer  a  sheep  as  a  lamb,  and 
I  won't  never  git  no  chance  again  to  feel  myself 
goin'  through  the  air  with  nothin'  in  front  of 
me." 

"But,  Grandma—" 

The  old  lip  quivered,  and  the  eyes  filled  child 
ishly. 

"But  I  want  to,  Drusilla.  I  don't  want  to  be 
all  squshed  up  with  a  lot  of  old  women  where  I 
can't  see  nothin'.  I  want  to  see,  and  I  want  to 
feel" 

Drusilla  turned  helplessly  to  the  other  women, 
and  then  Joseph  came  to  her  aid. 

"She  can  sit  here,  Ma'am.  I'll  fix  the  wind 
shield  so's  she  won't  catch  cold,  and  you  can  put 
this  rug  around  her.  She'll  be  warm." 

Grandma  Perkins  was  lifted  into  the  seat  by 
the  driver,  bundled  up  in  a  big  fur  rug  so  that 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       161 

only  her  bright  eyes  could  be  seen,  and  they  were 
off.  Twice  on  the  way  home  Grandma  Perkins 
was  seen  to  lean  towards  the  chauffeur  and  the 
car  jumped  forward  until  it  seemed  that  they 
were  flying.  When  at  last  they  drove  into  the 
"home"  grounds,  they  found  a  very  anxious 
superintendent  and  John  waiting  for  them,  fear 
ing  something  had  happened. 

As  Drusilla  took  her  leave,  Grandma  Perkins 
chuckled  childishly. 

"I  always  said,  Drusilla,  that  I  didn't  want  to 
die  and  go  to  Heaven;  but  I've  changed  my 
mind.  I'll  go  any  time  now,  'cause  I  like  flyin' 
and  am  willin'  to  be  an  angel." 

The  superintendent  was  inclined  to  be  angry 
with  Drusilla — as  angry  as  she  could  be  with  a 
woman  who  possessed  a  million  dollars.  She 
said  stiffly: 

"I'm  afraid  the  ladies  will  be  ill  to-morrow." 

One  of  them,  hearing  it,  spoke  up. 

"Of  course  we'll  all  be  sick;  but,  then,  it  was 
worth  it!" 

And  Drusilla  left  with  those  words  ringing  in 
her  ears. 

"John,"  she  said,  "perhaps  all  is  vanity  and  a 
strivin'  after  wind ;  but  the  preacher  didn't  know 
much  about  women,  or  his  wives  didn't  have 
motorcars." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ONE  morning  James  came  to  Drusilla. 
"There  is  a  man  downstairs  who  wishes 
to  see  you,"  he  announced. 

"What  does  he  want?"  asked  Drusilla. 

"He  does  not  say;  just  says  he  wants  to  see 
you  personally.  He  says  he  is  from  your  home 
town  or  village." 

Drusilla  looked  up,  pleased. 

"Is  that  so.  Take  him  in  one  of  the  setting- 
rooms  and  I'll  be  right  down." 

James  hesitated. 

"What  is  it,  James?" 

"He,  well,  he  is  not  exactly  a  gentleman;  he 
looks  like  a  man  from  the  country." 

"That  ain't  nothin'  to  disgrace  him  for  life. 
I'm  from  the  country  too,  and  I'm  real  glad  to 
see  any  one  from  the  place  where  I  was  raised. 
I  ain't  seen  no  one  from  there  for  a  long  time." 

When  she  went  downstairs  she  found  a  rather 
florid  man,  about  fifty  years  of  age,  dressed  as  a 
farmer  would  dress  when  out  on  a  holiday.  She 
extended  her  hand  cordially. 

"James  tells  me  you  are  from  Adams,"  she 

162 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       163 

said.  "I'm  real  glad  to  see  somebody  from 
there.  Set  down.  Won't  you  take  off  your 
coat?" 

The  man  removed  his  overcoat  and  sat  down. 

"I  am  John  Gleason,"  he  said;  "the  brother 
of  James  Gleason,  who  owns  the  Spring  Valley 
Stock  Farm,  just  out  of  Adams." 

Drusilla  thought  for  a  moment. 

"I  don't  seem  to  recall  the  name,  but  perhaps 
you  moved  there  sence  I  went  away." 

"I  been  there  about  thirty  years.  Of  course 
you  know  William  Fisher,  the  editor  of  the 
county  paper?  He  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

Drusilla's  face  brightened. 

"Yes,  indeed;  I  know  him  well.  I  nursed  his 
wife  through  all  her  children  and  her  last  spell 
of  sickness." 

"Is  that  so!  His  wife  was  a  cousin  of  my 
wife's.  Her  name  was  Jenny  Jameson  before 
she  married  me." 

"The  daughter  of  old  Dr.  Jameson!  Well,  I 
do  declare,  it's  like  meetin'  old  friends.  How  is 
she?" 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  she  is  not  very  well.  We 
lost  our  little  girl  about  two  years  ago,  and  she 
has  been  sick  ever  since." 

Kindly  Drusilla  was  all  sympathy  at  once. 

"Do  tell  me.     What  did  she  die  of." 


164      DRUSILLA   WITH    A   MILLION 

"Diphtheria.  She  got  it  in  school;  it  run 
through  all  the  children  in  the  county." 

"How  old  was  she?" 

"She  was  eleven,  and  it  near  broke  my  wife's 
heart.  She  was  our  only  child.  I  catch  her  set- 
tin'  by  the  door  waitin'  for  Julia  to  come  home. 
It  worries  me  very  much." 

"Well,  I'm  so  sorry.  Have  you  had  a  doc 
tor?" 

"Yes;  we  have  had  Dr.  Friedman  and  another 
doctor  from  the  city.  But  they  don't  seem  to 
be  doing  her  no  good." 

"It's  too  bad!  Now  perhaps  I  got  something 
that'll  help  her.  I  got  some  harbs  that  make 
the  best  tonic.  I  always  give  it  to  mothers  who 
didn't  get  along  well,  and  it  made  them  have  an 
appetite;  and  if  one  can  eat  well,  they  can  gin- 
erally  git  enough  strength  to  throw  off  sorrow. 
You  just  set  still  a  minute,  and  I'll  make  a  pack 
age  for  you.  I  ain't  got  much  left,  'cause  I 
been  kind  of  savin'  of  it;  but  I  know  it'll  do 
your  wife  good,  so  I'm  goin'  to  give  you  some." 

Drusilla  left  to  go  up  to  her  room  to  find  the 
"harbs"  that  she  had  been  carefully  cherishing 
for  time  of  need.  When  she  returned  she 
handed  the  package  to  the  man. 

"You  have  her  bile  them  fifteen  minutes  and 
drink  it  like  a  tea,"  she  said. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

They  chatted  for  fifteen  minutes  about  the 
families  in  Adams.  Mr.  Gleason  seemed  to  be 
very  familiar  with  them  all,  and  Drusilla's  eyes 
brightened  as  she  heard  the  old  names.  She 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  visit. 

"John  Brierly  is  upstairs,"  she  said  finally. 
"I'll  call  him.  He'd  like  to  hear  all  the  news  of 
the  old  neighbors,  and  perhaps  he'll  know  about 
your  father." 

The  man  looked  embarrassed. 

"Well,  Miss  Doane,"  he  stammered,  "I'd  like 
to  see  him,  but  I'm  in  a  hurry.  I  want  to  get  the 
eleven  o'clock  train  home.  I'm  worried  about 
leaving  my  wife.  She's  not  sick,  you  know,  but 
just  peculiar  and  I  don't  like  to  leave  her  longer 
than  I  can  help.  I  had  to  come  down  on  busi 
ness — I've  been  seeing  about  some  cattle  over  in 
New  Jersey,  and — and — Miss  Doane,  I'm  in 
trouble,  and  I  don't  know  a  soul  in  New  York, 
and  I  didn't  know  who  I  could  go  to  but  you, 
and  I  remembered  you  was  from  Adams  and 
might  help  me." 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  with  inquiring,  sympa 
thetic  eyes. 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  asked. 

"Well," — and  the  man  was  most  embarrassed 
• — "I've  been  farmer  enough  to  have  my  pocket 
picked  on  the  train.  I  was  sleepy  and  went  to 


166      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

sleep  and  when  I  woke  up  my  pocketbook  that  I 
always  carried  right  here" — showing  an  inside 
pocket  in  his  coat — "was  gone.  It  had  all  my 
money  and  my  mileage  ticket." 

"Well,  I  swan!"  said  Drusilla. 

"Yes;  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  tried  to 
tell  the  man  in  the  ticket  office  that  I  would  send 
back  my  ticket  money,  but  he  wouldn't  give  it 
to  me,  and  I — well — I  don't  know  what  to  do. 
I  feel  I  ought  to  go  home  to  my  wife  at  once, 
and — and — ' 

"How  much  is  the  ticket?" 

"The  ticket  is  only  about  three  dollars  and 
sixty  cents — " 

"Pshaw,  that  is  very  little.  I'll  get  some 
money  from  James.  I  never  have  any." 

She  rang  the  bell;  and  when  James  returned 
with  fifteen  dollars  she  handed  it  to  the  man. 

"You'd  better  have  a  little  extra,  as  somethin' 
might  happen,"  she  said. 

He  was  more  than  thankful. 

"I'll  never  forget  your  kindness,  and  I'll  send 
it  to  you  as  soon  as  I  get  home.  You'll  get  it 
day  after  to-morrow.  And  I'll  see  my  wife 
takes  this  tea.  We'll  never  forget  you,  Miss 
Doane." 

He  wrung  her  hand. 

"Can't  I  get  you  anything  from  the  country," 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       167 

he  asked.  "But  I  suppose  you  have  everything. 
I'd  like  to  send  you  something  to  show  you  how 
I  feel." 

Drusilla  was  touched. 

"Now  that's  real  kind  of  you  to  think  of  it," 
she  said;  "but  I  don't  need  nothin'." 

She  followed  him  to  the  door  and  helped  him 
on  with  his  overcoat. 

"Be  sure  and  let  me  know  how  your  wife  gets 
on.  Perhaps  if  the  tea  don't  do  no  good,  my 
doctor  will  know  of  something  that'll  help  her. 
She  might  come  down  here  for  a  few  days;  a 
change  might  take  her  mind  off  her  sorrow." 

Again  Mr.  Gleason  shook  the  kindly  out 
stretched  hand,  and  for  a  moment  he  seemed 
rather  overcome  by  his  feelings  of  gratitude. 

"I'll  let  you  know  at  once,  and  I'll  remember 
your  offer.  I  must  catch  my  train.  Thank 
you  again,  Miss  Doane." 

Drusilla  watched  him  walk  down  the  drive, 
and  then  she  went  up  to  tell  John  of  his  visit. 
As  they  were  talking,  Dr.  Eaton's  card  was 
brought  to  her  and  Drusilla  asked  him  to  be 
shown  to  John's  sitting-room.  Drusilla  met 
him  with  a  happy  smile  on  her  face. 

"Come  right  in,  Dr.  Eaton.  I'm  always  glad 
to  see  you.  You're  just  youth  and  strength  and 
it  does  my  old  eyes  good  to  see  you.  John,  this 


168      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

is  Dr.  Eaton,  my  family  doctor.  You  didn't 
know  I  was  an  ailin'  woman  and  have  to  have  a 
doctor  by  the  year." 

John  looked  at  her  anxiously. 

"You  ain't  sick,  are  you,  Drusilla?" 

"Oh,  money  gives  you  lots  of  diseases  that  you 
didn't  know  you  had  till  you  could  afford  'em." 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"Miss  Doane'll  never  be  sick  in  her  life,  Mr. 
Brierly.  She's  good  for  twenty-five  years  of 
hard  work  yet." 

"Don't  speak  that  word  to  me,  Dr.  Eaton.  I 
don't  like  the  word  work.  It's  stuck  closer  to 
me  than  a  brother  for  too  many  years." 

"Oh,  but  there's  work  and  work.  But  am  I 
interrupting  your  visit  with  Mr.  Brierly?" 

"No;  I  just  been  tellin'  him  about  a  visitor  I 
had  who  comes  from  Adams,  where  we  used  to 
live  when  we  was  young.  I  wanted  John  to 
come  and  see  him,  but  the  man  couldn't  wait. 
He  had  to  catch  a  train." 

"Was  it  an  old  friend?  It's  nice  to  see  old 
friends." 

"No,  he  wasn't  exactly  an  old  friend,  but  he 
knowed  a  lot  of  people  I  knowed  once.  Poor 
man,  he  was  in  a  lot  of  trouble.  He  had  his 
pocket  picked  and  couldn't  get  home  and  his 
wife  was  sick — " 


The  doctor  looked  up  quickly. 

"Did  you  lend  him  money,  Miss  Doane?" 

"Yes;  I  felt  so  sorry  for  him.  He  was  so 
worried  I  let  him  have  fifteen  dollars.  He'll 
send  it  back  to  me  to-morrow.  He  was  so  grate 
ful.  It  must  be  awful  to  be  in  a  big  city  and 
know  no  one  and  have  no  money." 

"Yes;  it  must,"  the  doctor  remarked  dryly. 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  quickly. 

"What  you  speakin'  in  that  tone  of  voice  for?" 

The  doctor  laughed  rather  hesitatingly. 

"I'm  afraid,  Miss  Doane,  that  you're  what  the 
small  boys  call  'stung.' ' 

"Stung?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  rather  imagine  that  was  a  little  confidence 
game." 

"What  is  a  confidence  game?" 

"Oh,  a  man  gets  money  from  people  on  false 
pretenses.  They  work  a  lot  of  games.  One  of 
them  is  to  go  to  people  whom  they  have  looked 
up,  and  claim  to  be  a  relation  or  from  their  home 
town." 

"But  he  knowed  lots  of  names  I  knowed." 

"Yes;  he  might  have  found  them  in  a  local 
paper  from  the  place." 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  chair. 

"Well,  do  tell!"  Then,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "But  I  don't  believe  he's  dishonest.  He 


looked  honest.  He  looked  like  a  man  from  the 
country." 

"That's  where  they're  clever.  But  don't 
worry ;  you  can  stand  the  touch — it  wasn't  much. 
You  got  off  easy." 

"But  I  don't  like  to  think  I  bin  cheated.  It 
makes  me  mad  clean  through.  It  always  did. 
I  remember  once  I  bought  a  cow  when  mother 
was  bad;  paid  forty  dollars  for  her  to  Silas 
Graham.  He  said  she  was  young  and  would 
give  fifteen  quarts  of  milk  a  day,  and  I  figgered 
out  I  could  give  mother  all  the  milk  she'd  need 
and  sell  the  rest  and  in  that  way  pay  for  her, 
because  forty  dollars  was  a  lot  of  money  for  me 
in  them  days.  Why,  when  I  got  that  cow  she 
never  give  enough  milk  to  wet  down  a  salt  risin', 
and  she  was  as  old  as  Methuselah.  All  she  could 
do  was  to  eat,  and  she  et  her  head  off.  I  couldn't 
see  her  starve  and  I  couldn't  sell  her.  I  kept  her 
for  two  years,  and  finally  a  butcher  come  along 
and  offered  me  eight  dollars  for  her  and  I  let 
her  go.  Wasn't  I  mad!  I  never  could  abide 
any  one  by  the  name  of  Silas  after  that." 

"Never  mind;  you're  able  to  stand  this  loss. 
But  you'd  better  write  up  to  Adams  and  see  if 
what  he  says  is  true.  You  can  find  it  out  easy 
enough." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       171 

"No ;  I'll  wait  and  see.  I  believe  he'll  send  it 
back  to  me.  But  it  makes  me  excited." 

"But,  Miss  Doane,"  said  Dr.  Eaton  earnestly, 
"I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing.  You 
must  not  be  annoyed.  If  the  word  gets  around 
that  you  are  'easy'  you'll  be  bothered  to  death. 
Now  the  next  time  that  any  one  comes  claiming 
to  be  from  your  home  town,  and  asks  you  for 
money,  for  anything  at  all,  just  send  for  the  po 
lice  and  have  them  arrested." 

"Oh,  I'd  hate  to  do  that." 

"But  you  must,  Miss  Doane.  You  must  pro 
tect  yourself.  Promise  me  that  no  matter  who 
it  is,  or  what  kind  of  a  con  talk  they  give  you, 
you'll  send  at  once  for  the  police." 

"Well—" 

"Please  promise  this,  Miss  Doane.  You  must 
make  an  example,  or  you'll  have  every  confi 
dence  man  in  town  working  you.  Will  you  do 
it,  no  matter  what  or  who  it  is  ?  If  you  are  asked 
for  money,  and  you  don't  know  the  man,  have 
him  locked  up,  and  the  story'll  get  around,  and 
you  won't  be  bothered  any  more." 

"Well,  if  you  think  it  necessary — " 

"It  is  most  necessary.     You  will  promise?" 

"Yes,  I'll  promise.  I'll  do  it,  though  I  hate 
to." 


172      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"All  right;  I  have  your  word  for  it.  Now  be 
sure  to  do  it.  Don't  believe  a  word  they  say,  if 
you  haven't  known  the  person  before.  He's 
sure  to  be  playing  the  old  game,  and  I  don't 
want  them  to  think  they  can  work  you." 

"Well,  all  right.  I'll  send  for  the  police  if 
any  one  ever  comes  again  and  says  he's  from 
Adams.  I  guess  you  are  right.  Now  let's 
change  the  subject.  What  did  you  come  for 
particular,  beside  wanting  to  see  me,  of  course." 

"Well,  I  wanted  to  see  you,  first  of  all,  just 
for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  and  then  I  want 
to  tell  you  about  the  mothers  we've  got  by  our 
advertisement." 

Drusilla  was  interested  at  once. 

"Did  you  git  some?  I  told  you  we  would. 
Did  you  advertise  in  all  the  papers?" 

"Yes;  every  paper  in  New  York  City — Jew 
ish,  German,  Bohemian,  Russian,  everything; 
and  I've  found  three  mothers  out  of  the  bunch." 

"Well — well,  I'm  glad.  Where  are  they,  and 
who  are  they?" 

"One  of  them  is  little  John's  mother.  You  re 
member  you  thought  she'd  come  and  she  did. 
The  other  two,  we've  had  their  stories  investi 
gated  and  found  them  all  right.  One  is  an 
American  girl  about  twenty  years  of  age  whose 
husband  deserted  her  when  he  couldn't  get  work, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A   MILLION       173 

and  she  was  practically  starving,  and  the  other 
is  a  little  Jewish  girl,  who  works  in  a  flower  fac 
tory." 

"The  poor  things !  Did  you  bring  them  right 
up?" 

;  "No;  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you  first,  and  with 
Mr.  Thornton—" 

"Never  mind  talkin'  with  Mr.  Thornton. 
This  is  my  affair  and  not  connected  with  the  es 
tate,  as  he  calls  it.  It  ain't  none  of  his  business, 
and  you  know  what  he'd  say.  I  don't  tell  him 
more'n  I  have  to  till  it's  done,  then  he  can't  do 
nothin'  and  he's  learnt  he's  wastin'  his  breath 
talkin'.  You  see  he  talks  slow  and  I  talk  fast, 
and  he  don't  git  much  chance." 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"I'm  glad  I  don't  have  to  talk  this  over  with 
him,  as  he  isn't  what  you  might  call  sympa 
thetic." 

"Yes;  he's  cold.  Sometimes  I  look  to  see  him 
drip  like  an  icicle  brought  into  a  warm  room,  but 
I  guess  he's  not  so  bad  as  he  acts  sometimes. 
But  who's  the  little  Jew  girl?" 

"She  is  that  little  Jew  kid's  mother." 

"The  baby  with  the  black  eyes  and  the  big 
nose?  Well,  he  ain't  pretty,  but  he's  clever." 

"The  girl  couldn't  make  but  five  dollars  a  week 
and  she  couldn't  pay  any  one  to  keep  the  baby, 


174      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

and  she  had  no  people,  so  she  gave  it  to  you. 
But  she's  a  nice  little  thing,  and  willing  to  work 
and  be  with  her  boy." 

"That  makes  four  nurses,  and  perhaps  there'll 
be  more  answer.  Now  you  figger  what  I  ought 
to  pay  'em.  I  want  to  be  just,  but  I  ain't  go  in' 
to  be  extravagant.  And  send  them  up  to-mor 
row.  And,  Doctor,  I  been  a  thinkin'.  These 
mothers  ought  to  be  learnt  somethin'  so's  they 
can  make  a  livin'  when  they  leave  here.  They 
can't  live  here  forever,  perhaps.  Mis'  Fearn 
was  over  here  the  other  day  and  said  somethin' 
about  tryin'  to  get  a  good  sewin'  woman — some 
one  who  could  make  dresses  in  the  house  for  the 
children  and  make  over  her  old  ones,  and  do  odds 
and  ends  that  she  can't  get  the  big  dressmakers 
to  do.  She  says  she  pays  three  dollars  a  day 
but  that  it's  hard  to  get  good  ones.  Why  can't 
we  get  some  one  to  teach  our  mothers  to  be  dress 
makers — real  good  ones — then  they  can  always 
make  a  livin'." 

"That's  an  idea,  Miss  Doane,  and  a  good  one. 
We'll  think  it  over." 

"Well,  you  figger  it  out ;  but  we  got  enough  to 
think  about  jest  now.  We've  got  a  good  start 
— twelve  babies  and  four  mothers.  I  think  I'll 
stop  with  that.  Twelve  is  a  good  number." 

Just  then  James  came  to  the  door  with  a  dis- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       175 

gusted  look  on  his  face.  He  glanced  from  one 
to  the  other  in  perplexity.  Drusilla  looked  up. 

"What  is  it,  James?" 

James  was  plainly  embarrassed. 

"I'd— I'd— like  to  speak  to  Dr.  Eaton.  I 
think  I'd  better  speak  to  him  first." 

"What  do  you  want  to  say  to  him  you  can't 
say  to  me?  Has  some  one  sent  for  him?" 

"No— no— " 

"Well,  is  it  private?  What  you  so  nervous 
about,  James?  You  look  foolish." 

"Well— well— " 

"Say  it!     What  is  it?" 

"Well,  ma'am — there's  another  baby  come." 

"What I"  cried  Drusilla,  sitting  erect  in  her 
chair. 

"What!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Eaton.  "Where's 
the  watchman?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  The  baby  was  found  at 
the  laundry  door,  and  no  one  was  in  sight,  though 
we  all  searched  the  grounds  and  the  roads." 

"Well,  I  swan!  I  thought  we'd  stopped. 
What'U  we  do  with  it?" 

James  said  impressively:  "We'd  better  send 
this  one  to  the  police  station." 

"James,"  said  Drusilla  severely,  "I've  told 
you  I  won't  send  a  baby  to  the  police  station. 
Bring  it  up  and  let  me  see  it!" 


176      DRUSILLA   WITH    A   MILLION 

"But,  ma'am,  this  is  different — " 

Drusilla  sniffed. 

"It  can't  be  much  different.  A  baby  is  a 
baby—" 

"But,  ma'am— Dr.  Eaton— I—" 

"James,  I  said  bring  it  up.  Now  bring  it  up 
at  once,  I  say!" 

James  turned  desperately  and  left  the  room. 
Soon  he  returned  with  a  clothes-basket  and  put 
it  on  the  library  table.  Drusilla,  Dr.  Eaton  and 
John  rose  and  went  to  the  table  and  looked  down 
in  silence  at  the  basket's  contents,  with  consterna 
tion  plainly  written  on  their  faces.  There  was  a 
moment's  silence,  then  Dr.  Eaton  burst  into  a 
roar  of  laughter.  He  put  back  his  head  and 
laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down  his  face,  and 
soon  he  was  joined  by  John;  but  Drusilla  was 
too  amazed  to  laugh.  She  looked  down  at  the 
baby  in  the  big  clothes-basket,  at  the  round, 
black,  wondering  eyes  that  stared  up  at  her  from 
the  coal-black  face  of  a  negro  baby.  There  it 
lay,  the  little  woolly  head  on  a  clean  white  pil 
low,  a  white  blanket  covering  its  little  body. 
The  baby  looked  at  the  laughing  faces  above  it, 
as  if  wondering  why  the  sight  of  him  should  cause 
such  merriment;  then,  as  if  seeing  the  joke, 
opened  his  little  mouth,  showing  the  tip  of  a  red 
tongue  and  dazzling  baby  teeth.  It  was  too 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       177 

much  for  Drusilla.  She  sat  down  heavily  in  the 
nearest  chair. 

"Well,  I  swan — I  swan!    A  nigger  baby!" 

Drusilla  went  again  to  the  basket,  from  which 
the  squirming  infant  was  evidently  trying  to  get 
out.  She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  and  then 
turned  to  Dr.  Eaton. 

"Take  him  out.  I  ain't  never  seen  a  colored 
baby  close." 

The  baby  was  found  to  be  a  boy  about  a  year 
and  a  half  old.  He  was  not  at  all  frightened, 
and  stood  up  on  his  sturdy  legs  and  tried  to  make 
friends  in  his  baby  fashion,  showing  his  white 
teeth  and  rolling  his  round  black  eyes  in  a  way 
that  started  Dr.  Eaton  and  John  off  into  another 
paroxysm  of  laughter. 

Drusilla  looked  at  the  baby;  then  at  the  two 
men.  Then,  as  she  did  not  know  what  to  do, 
she  became  exasperated. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  two?  Ain't  you 
never  seen  a  nigger  baby  before?  What  you 
laughing  at?" 

The  baby  was  trying  to  toddle  across  the  floor. 
His  toes  struck  a  rug  and  he  fell,  showing  above 
his  white  socks  a  pair  of  little  fat  legs  that  seemed 
to  be  made  in  ebony,  so  clearly  were  they  in  con 
trast  to  his  white  clothing.  Even  Drusilla  sat 
back  and  joined  the  men  in  their  merriment 


178      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

The  baby  looked  at  them  solemnly;  then  put  his 
chubby  fist  into  his  mouth  and  his  face  puckered 
up  and  great  tears  came  to  his  eyes.  Drusilla 
was  all  kindness  in  an  instant. 

"You  poor  little  mite!  They  shan't  laugh  at 
you — no,  they  shan't!  Come  right  here  to 
Grandma—  No,  I  can't  be  Grandma  to  a  col 
ored  baby,  can  I  ?  Well,  never  mind,  come  here 
tome." 

She  held  out  her  arms  to  the  weeping  baby> 
and  he  came  toddling  to  her.  She  lifted  him  to 
her  lap  and  cuddled  him  down  against  her  breast. 

"There,  there!"  she  soothed.  "Now  you're 
all  right.  Well,"  turning  to  the  men,  "he  feels 
just  like  any  other  baby,  black  or  white." 

Dr.  Eaton  looked  at  the  white  head  bent  over 
the  black  one  and  again  he  started  to  laugh,  but 
Drusilla  looked  up  with  a  slight  flush  on  her  face 
and  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes  that  plainly  said  that 
she  had  had  enough  of  laughter,  and  he  stopped. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  this  one? 
Now  we'd  better  send  for  Mr.  Thornton.'* 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  severely. 

"Don't  you  be  a  fool,  Dr.  Eaton.  I  don't 
want  Mr.  Thornton  to  know  nothin'  about  this 
one.  I'd  never  hear  the  last  of  it." 

"Well,  then  you'd  better  let  me  take  him  to 
the  police  station." 


"Yes — "  hesitatingly;  "I  suppose  so.  But — " 
and  she  looked  down  at  the  baby  who  was  con 
tentedly  playing  with  the  trimming  on  her 
dress — 

"I  jest  hate  to  send  a  baby  there." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Dr.  Eaton. 
"There's  a  big  colored  orphan  asylum  out  on  the 
Elpham  Road.  Let's  telephone  up  there,  and 
I'll  take  it  over  myself." 

Drusilla  hesitated  again. 

"Another  'home.'     I  hate  to — " 

"It's  the  only  thing  to  do,  Miss  Doane.  You 
can't  mix  the  colors." 

"Well,  perhaps  you'd  better." 

Dr.  Eaton  left  the  room,  and  returned  after  a 
few  moments  with  a  shake  of  his  head. 

"No  good!  They  say  they're  full.  They 
can't  take  in  another  child.  I  telephoned  an 
other  one  downtown  that  they  told  me  of,  and 
they  say  the  same  thing.  It  seems  there  is  a 
superfluity  of  colored  babies  just  now.  I  guess 
it'll  have  to  be  the  police  station." 

"What'll  they  do  with  him?  If  we  can't  find 
a  place  to-night,  they  can't." 

"No ;  perhaps  not.  But  they'll  keep  him  until 
they  do  find  a  place." 

"Well,  if  they  can  keep  him,  so  can  I.  I'll 
keep  him  until  we  find  a  place  for  him.  Ring 


180      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

for  James  and  Fanny  and  we'll  put  him  to  bed." 

James  came  and  the  little  girl  mother,  and  the 
baby  was  placed  in  James's  outraged  arms. 

"Now,  James,  don't  drop  him — he  won't  bite 
you.  Take  him  to  the  children's  room ;  and  you, 
Fanny,  see  that  he  has  something  to  eat  and  a 
bath.  Now  you  be  jest  as  nice  to  him  as  to  the 
other  babies.  Give  him  your  baby's  bed  and  take 
your  baby  in  with  you  to-night." 

As  James  left  the  room  with  the  baby  in  his 
arms,  which  were  stretched  out  as  far  from  his 
body  as  he  could  carry  them,  and  with  his  head 
held  disdainfully  in  the  air,  Drusilla  sat  back  in 
her  chair  and  chuckled. 

"Ain't  James  havin'  new  experiences?  His 
back  says,  'This  didn't  never  happen  to  me  when 
I  was  in  the  Duke's  house'!" 

Dr.  Eaton  rose  to  go. 

"I'll  find  some  place  to  put  him  to-morrow, 
Miss  Doane.  It's  good  of  you  to  take  him  to 
night." 

Drusilla  went  with  him  to  the  door. 

"Good  night,  Doctor.  Things  do  seem  to  be 
kind  of  comin'  my  way.  I've  got  Swedes  and 
Dutch  and  Irish  and  Jews,  and  now  a  nigger 
baby.  It's  a  mighty  good  thing  for  me  that  the 
heathen  Chinee  is  barred.  Good  night." 


CHAPTER  IX 

DRUSILLA  waited  several  days  for  the  re 
turn  of  the  money  that  she  had  loaned  her 
visitor  from  Adams,  and  when  it  did  not  come 
she  was  prevailed  upon  to  write  to  the  son  of  her 
old  friend,  Dr.  Friedman,  asking  him  regarding 
the  man.  The  doctor  answered  that  there  was 
no  man  by  the  name  of  John  Gleason  in  Adams ; 
that  the  Spring  Valley  Stock  Farm  was  owned 
by  a  man  named  Gleason  who  had  no  brother; 
and  that  this  particular  man  had  never  lived  in 
the  small  village,  where  every  one  was  known. 
Drusilla  was  thoroughly  aroused.  It  was  her 
first  experience  with  a  confidence  man.  It  hurt 
her  pride,  as  she  had  said;  but  it  hurt  her  worse 
to  know  that  people  did  such  things. 

"It  jest  destroys  my  belief  in  human  natur', 
and  I'll  never  trust  no  one  again,"  she  said  to 
John. 

It  was  only  about  a  week  after  the  receipt  of 
the  letter  from  the  doctor,  when  she  was  still 
smarting  from  her  wounded  feelings,  that  she 
was  told  a  clergyman  wanted  to  see  her  person- 

181 


182      DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

ally.  She  found  a  quiet  little  man,  dressed  in 
black. 

"Miss  Doane,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "I  am 
the  Presbyterian  clergyman  from  Adams,  your 
old  home,  and  as  I  was  in  town  I  thought  I 
would  come  to  see  you." 

Suspicion  jumped  into  Drusilla's  old  eyes. 

"Won't  you  set  down?"  she  said,  rather  coldly 
for  her. 

The  stranger  sat  down. 

"Did  you  take  the  place  of  old  Dr.  Smith?" 
Drusilla  asked. 

"Yes;  he's  had  another  call,  to  a  higher  land" 
— motioning  upward — "and  I  have  his  charge." 

The  man  chatted  very  intelligently  regarding 
the  people  in  Adams,  and  Drusilla  began  to 
thaw.  She  forgot  her  other  visitor  in  her  en 
joyment  of  hearing  the  names  of  the  people  in 
her  old  church. 

"Miss  Doane,"  the  clergyman  said  finally, 
"we  are  in  a  little  trouble  in  our  church,  and  I 
thought  that  you  might  help  us." 

Drusilla  stiffened  at  once. 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  asked. 

"We  are  trying  to  start  a  little  fund  to  take 
care  of  some  poor  children  of  our  parish,  and  as 
it  is  very  hard  to  raise  money  in  our  little  village, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      183 

I  thought  you  might  be  willing  to  head  our  sub 
scription.  I  thought  it  better  to  come  and  see 
you  personally  instead  of  writing  you." 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  a  moment  and  then 
rose. 

"Will  you  excuse  me  a  minute?"  she  said  po 
litely,  and  left  the  room. 

She  went  directly  to  the  butler. 

"James,  telephone  for  the  police.  There's  an 
other  man  in  there  from  Adams  and  I  want  him 
arrested." 

She  left  the  astonished  James  to  carry  out  her 
orders,  and  returned  to  the  room. 

"You  say  you  have  some  children  in  Adams 
without  homes?" 

"Not  exactly  without  homes,  but  they  are  de 
pendent  upon  the  town  for  support.  An  Irish 
family  moved  in  and  the  father  died  and  the 
mother  is  ill,  and  we  want  part  of  the  fund  to 
help  the  family  until  the  mother  is  able  to  sup 
port  her  little  family  of  six.  We  want  to  keep 
them  together — instead  of  putting  them  in  asy 
lums  and  separating  them.  And  there  are  two 
children  who  have  lost  both  parents — at  least  the 
mother  is  dead  and  the  father  cannot  be  found — 
and  we  must  take  care  of  them.  They  are  too 
small  to  work  and  we  thought  we  could  get  some 


184      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

one  to  take  them  by  paying  a  small  sum  per  week 
and—" 

He  quite  likely  would  have  enumerated  the 
rest  of  the  charges  of  his  parish  if  there  had  not 
been  a  discreet  knock  at  the  door,  immediately 
followed  by  James,  announcing: 

"The  men  you  asked  for,  ma'am." 

Drusilla  rose  as  the  two  police  officers  entered 
the  room.  She  said,  pointing  to  the  astonished 
clergyman,  "I  want  you  to  arrest  this  man.  He 
is  a  confidence  man." 

"What — what—  '  sputtered  the  clergyman. 

"I  want  you  to  take  him  to  the  police  station," 
said  Drusilla  firmly. 

"Do  you  make  a  charge,  ma'am?"  asked  one 
of  the  officers. 

"Yes.  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  I  make  it. 
Take  him  to  jail." 

"But — but — "  said  the  bewildered  clergyman, 
"this  is  an  outrage!" 

"I  don't  care  what  it  is,  you  go  to  jail.  I 
promised  the  doctor  I'd  arrest  the  next  man  who 
tried  to  git  money  from  me  by  saying  he  was 
from  Adams.  I  don't  believe  you're  a  preacher; 
you  don't  look  like  one." 

The  officers  went  up  to  the  man,  who  was  evi 
dently  struggling  with  emotion,  trying  to  find 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      185 

some  suitable  words  to  express  his  surprise  and 
anger. 

"Come  along  with  me,"  said  the  officer  gruffly. 
"Don't  make  no  fuss;  it  won't  go." 

They  put  their  hands  on  his  arms  and  he 
struggled. 

"J"ake  your  hands  off  of  me!  What  do  you 
mean?  I  tell  you,  I'm  the  Reverend  Algernon 
Thompson,  of  Adams." 

"Don't  you  believe  nothin'  he  says,"  insisted 
Drusilla.  "Whoever  heard  of  a  name  Alger 
non!  He  looks  much  worse'n  the  other  man 
that  was  here.  Just  you  take  him  along." 

Drusilla  looked  scornfully  at  the  man,  who 
was  struggling  with  the  officers.  They  led  him 
to  the  door,  where  he  again  refused  to  go,  and 
the  policemen  took  him  roughly  by  the  shoulders 
and  pushed  him  into  the  hall.  He  struggled 
wildly,  and  his  face  became  convulsed  as  he 
turned  to  Drusilla. 

"I  tell  you  I'm  the  Reverend  Algernon 
Thompson;  and  this  is  an  outrage — an  out 
rage — " 

The  officers  shook  him  roughly. 

"Oh,  can  the  hot  air.  We're  used  to  your 
kind.  Come  along." 

And  the  last  Drusilla  could  hear  was  the  wail 


186      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

of  the  clergyman:  "I  tell  you  I  am  the  Rev 
erend  Algernon  Thompson — 

After  the  noise  had  subsided  and  Drusilla 
knew  the  man  was  gone  she  went  slowly  up 
stairs  to  find  John.  He  looked  up  from  the 
book  he  was  reading  and  said  quickly  as  he  saw 
her  flushed  face: 

"What  is  it,  Drusilla.     Has  something  upset 

you?" 

Drusilla  sat  down  wearily  in  a  chair. 

"Oh,  John,  it  was  another  man  from  Adams. 
He  said  he  was  a  preacher  this  time,  and  I  had 
him  arrested.  It's  upset  me  awful.  Ring  for 
William;  I  believe  I'll  take  a  glass  of  wine.  I 
don't  believe  in  spirits,  but  St.  Paul  says  there's 
a  time  for  everything,  and  this  is  the  time." 

Drusilla  was  silent  as  she  sipped  the  wine; 
then  finally  she  looked  up  at  John  wistfully: 

"John,  do  you  think  I'd  ought  to  'a'  done  it?" 

"Certainly,  Drusilla.  The  doctor  told  you  to 
have  any  one  arrested  who  asked  you  for  money, 
claiming  to  be  from  your  old  home.  He  said 
you  mustn't  get  the  reputation  of  being  easy,  or 
you'd  be  bothered  to  death." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  then — " 

"You  did  just  right,  Drusilla;  so  don't 
worry." 

Drusilla  sighed. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      187 

"I  hate  to  do  it,  but  I  suppose  I  must.  He 
didn't  look  a  bit  like  a  preacher,  and  he  said  his 
name  was  Algernon.  He'd  ought  to  be  arrested 
for  the  name  if  for  nothin'  else,  hadn't  he?" 

John  laughed. 

"Well,  it's  all  right.  Now  let's  talk  of  some 
thing  else.  Let  me  read  you  something." 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  chair. 

"All  right,  John;  read  to  me.  I  don't  know 
nothin'  that'll  make  me  quiet  and  sleepy  so  quick 
as  being  read  to.  I  can  sleep  as  easy  when 
you're  readin'  that  poetry  stuff  to  me  as  I  can 
in  my  bed.  Go  on ;  it'll  caam  my  nerves." 

John  read  to  her  for  half  an  hour,  his  voice 
having  the  desired  effect.  Drusilla  almost 
dozed;  but  when  John  raised  his  eyes  and,  see 
ing  hers  closed,  stopped  reading,  Drusilla 
opened  her  eyes  quickly. 

"I  ain't  all  asleep,  John,  just  half,"  she  said; 
and  John  laughed  and  went  on. 

They  were  interrupted  by  James. 

"Miss  Doane,  some  one  wishes  to  speak  to  you 
on  the  telephone." 

"But,  James,  let  'em  talk  to  you.  You  know 
I  don't  never  talk  on  the  telephone." 

"It  is  some  one  from  the  police  station,  ma'am, 
and  they  say  they  must  speak  to  you  partic 
ular." 


188      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"From  the  police  station?  Laws-a-massey ! 
Well,  then  turn  it  on  here." 

She  went  over  to  the  telephone  table  and  sat 
down.  Soon  John  heard : 

"What's  that  you  say?" 

"Laws-a-massey,  he's  real!" 

A  murmur  was  heard  from  the  telephone. 
Then  Drusilla,  excitedly: 

"He  has  letters  and  cards  that  prove  that  he 
is  the  Reverend  Algernon  Thompson,  from 
Adams,  and  has  given  names  in  New  York  and 
you  found  out  he  is  real" 

Again  the  murmur. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Drusilla;  and  turned 
to  John. 

"John,  I've  done  it!     That  man's  a  preacher, 
after  all,  and  he  says  he's  goin'  to  sue  me,  and— 
and— John,  what'll  I  do?" 

John  looked  perplexed  and  ran  his  hand 
through  his  white  hair. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Drusilla — I'm  sure— 

"What'll  I  do!  What'll  I  do!"  wailed  Dru 
silla.  "Just  think  of  putting  a  preacher  in  jail. 
What'll  ever  become  of  me!" 

Here  John  had  an  inspiration. 

"Drusilla,  send  for  Mr.  Thornton ;  he  is  a  law 
yer  and  he'll  know  what  to  do." 

Drusilla  drew  a  breath  of  relief. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       189 

"John,  that's  the  first  glimmer  of  sense  you 
ever  showed,  and  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  wanted 
to  see  that  lawyer."  Turning  to  the  telephone 
she  said:  "I'll  send  for  my  lawyer  at  once  and 
he'll  know  what  to  do.  Where's  the  man?" 

After  a  moment:  "I'll  send  a  car  down  and 
get  him.  Have  him  come  here  at  once  if  he'll 


come." 


She  left  the  telephone  and  turned  a  very 
scared  face  to  John. 

"John,  I'm  just  a  plain  old  fool.  Send  the 
car  to  the  police  station,  and  tell  Joseph  to  get 
that  man  if  he  has  to  tie  him  up!  And  you  go 
telephone  Mr.  Thornton  to  come  here  at  once. 
Now  he'll  have  a  chance  to  talk  and  I  can't  say 
a  word." 

It  was  a  very  frightened  and  meek  Drusilla 
that  greeted  Mr.  Thornton  and  Daphne  when 
they  came  into  the  room. 

"I  came  along,  Miss  Doane,"  Daphne  ex 
plained,  "because  Mr.  Brierly  said  you  were  in 
some  trouble,  and  I  thought  perhaps  I  might 
help  you." 

Drusilla  laughed  rather  shakily. 

"I'm  afraid,  Daphne,  this  is  a  case  for  your 
father.  I've  arrested  the  wrong  man." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Mr.  Thornton 
quickly, 


190      DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

"I've  got  a  preacher  in  jail — or  he  was  there 
unless  Joseph  can  git  him  to  come  with  him." 

Then  she  told  the  whole  story.  Mr.  Thornton 
could  not  keep  a  twinkle  from  his  eyes  as  he  lis 
tened.  But  he  did  not  laugh;  he  saw  that  Dru- 
silla  was  too  frightened  and  upset. 

"Now  what  am  I  goin'  to  do?"  Drusilla  fin 
ished.  "You  must  get  me  out  of  this." 

The  lawyer  thought  a  moment. 

"The  man  wanted  some  money  for  some  chil 
dren,  or  the  poor  of  his  parish.  Perhaps  we  can 
arrange  it.  Money  is  a  balm  that'll  soothe  most 
outraged  feelings." 

"Give  him  anything,  anything!"  Drusilla 
begged.  "I  never  thought  I'd  arrest  a  preacher, 
and  at  my  time  of  life.  Poor  man,  and  his  name 
was  Algernon,  too!" 

A  very  angry  man  was  brought  into  the  room, 
and  was  met  by  a  courteous  lawyer ;  but  Drusilla 
brushed  him  aside  and  went  up  to  the  man  and, 
laying  her  hand  on  his  arm  looked  up  into  his 
face  appealingly. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am!  I  don't 
know  what  to  say  or  what  to  do !  I  won't  never 
forgive  myself,  even  if  you  forgive  me,  which  I 
don't  expect." 

The  man  looked  down  at  her  and  the  angry 
flush  left  his  face. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       191 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say  myself,  Miss 
Doane,"  he  replied.  "It's  rather  a  new  experi 
ence  for  me,  a  police  station — " 

"Well,  I'm  so  ashamed  and  so  sorry  I  can't 
talk.  Just  set  down  and  let  lawyer  Thornton 
tell  you  all  about  it." 

The  lawyer  explained  to  him  the  circumstances 
of  Mr.  Gleason's  visit,  and  that  Drusilla  had  re 
ceived  instructions  to  arrest  the  next  man  who 
claimed  to  come  from  her  former  home. 

"It  was  unfortunate  for  me  that  I  happened 
to  be  the  next  man,"  the  clergyman  said  with  a 
laugh.  "But  I  understand,  and  it  is  all  right." 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  gratefully. 

"You're  a  good  man,  if  your  name  is  Alger 
non,  and  if  five  hundred  dollars  will  help  them 
children  Mr.  Thornton  will  give  it  to  you  to 
morrow.  And  now  you'll  stay  here  and  visit  me 
until  you  finish  your  business  in  New  York." 

The  clergyman  flushed,  this  time  with  pleas 
ure. 

"You  are  more  than  kind,  Miss  Doane.  I  be 
lieve  I'd  be  willing  to  go  to  the  police  station 
every  day  if  I  could  help  the  poor  of  our  little 
town  so  easily." 

"It  is  all  right  then,"  said  Drusilla,  "and  jest 
you  let  me  know  when  you  want  things  and  you 
can  always  count  on  me,  'cause  I'm  so  relieved. 


192      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

But  I  know  you're  hungry.  I'll  have  some  sup 
per  brought  up  here  and  you  can  talk  with  John. 
Are  you  goin',  Mr.  Thornton?"  as  the  lawyer 
rose.  "Let  Daphne  stay  a  while  with  me.  I 
want  her  to  come  to  my  room  and  talk  a  while. 
I'm  real  upset  and  tired  and  I  can  listen  to 
Daphne  without  having  to  think." 

"That  sounds  as  if  I  talked  nothing  but  non 
sense!"  Daphne  pouted. 

Drusilla  put  her  arm  around  the  young  girl. 

"Never  you  mind,  dear;  I  like  your  chatter,  so 
come  with  me." 

And  they  went  to  Drusilla's  room. 

They  drew  up  two  easy  chairs  before  the  fire 
and  as  Drusilla  settled  into  the  luxurious  depths 
of  hers  she  chuckled  to  herself. 

"Five  hundred  dollars!  I  always  knowed 
preachers  was  a  luxury — but —  Well,  talk  to  me, 
Daphne.  What  you  been  doin'?" 

"I'm  so  glad  to  get  a  chance  to  talk  with  you, 
Miss  Doane.  I've  been  intending  to  come  over 
for  a  week,  but  I've  been  too  busy.  You  know, 
Miss  Doane,  I  have  a  real  love  affair  on  my 
hands,  and  it's  giving  me  no  end  of  trouble." 

Drusilla  looked  at  her  quickly. 

"Not  your  own  love  affair,  Daphne?" 

Daphne  flushed  under  the  sharp  gaze. 

"No,"  she  said  hastily;  "Uncle  Jim's." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       193 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  an  Uncle  Jim." 

"Oh,  yes;  Papa's  younger  brother." 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"Well,  if  he  is  like  your  father  I  should  think 
he  could  manage  his  own  love  affairs." 

"He  is  and  he  can't.  He's  just  like  father, 
only  worse.  He's  so  sort  of  stiff  and  cold  that 
he  freezes  people;  but  he  can't  help  it.  He's 
been  engaged  to  the  nicest  girl — Mary  Deane. 
You  know  she  lives  in  the  big  house  on  the  Den- 
ham  road.  She's  the  dearest  girl,  and  I  adore 
her,  although  she's  much  older  than  I  am.  Oh, 
she's  very  old — she  must  be  thirty.  Uncle  Jim 
and  she  were  to  be  married,  and  then  all  at  once 
she  broke  the  engagement  and  went  to  Egypt. 
Uncle  Jim  would  never  say  why  it  was,  and  I 
didn't  know  until  she  came  back  last  week,  when 
I  found  out  all  about  it.  She  cried  when  she  told 
me.  She  said  he  wasn't  human;  that  she  couldn't 
pass  her  life  with  him,  he's  always  so  cold  and 
correct.  She  says  he  never  unbends,  sort  of 
stands  up  straight  even  when  he  kisses  her.  Yet 
I  know  she  loves  him ;  and  Uncle  Jim  hasn't  been 
the  same  man  at  all  since  the  engagement  was 
broken." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  You 
can't  make  him  over." 

"I  know  it;  but  if  they'd  only  meet  he  might 


194      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

be  different.  She  won't  come  to  our  house  for 
fear  she'll  meet  him,  and  he  is  too  proud  to  go 
and  see  her.  And  I  know  they  are  just  breaking 
their  hearts  for  each  other." 

She  was  quiet  for  a  moment. 

"I  wish  I  could  find  some  way  to  have  them 
meet  accidentally. 

"Let's  make  a  scheme,  Daphne.  Your  father 
is  going  to  Chicago  next  week,  and  he  told  me 
that  his  brother — I  guess  he  means  this  Jim — 
would  take  his  place  with  me.  Now,  why  can't 
I  get  in  some  kind  of  trouble — that's  always  easy 
for  me — and  I'll  telephone  him  to  come  over  right 
away,  and  then  you  come  in  by  chance  with  this 
young  lady.  Tell  her  that  I'm  a  feeble  old  lady 
that  needs  some  one  to  cheer  her  up.  Tell  her 
anything  that'll  git  her  here." 

"She'll  come.  I've  told  her  about  you  and 
she  said  she  wanted  to  come  to  see  you." 

"It's  easy  then,  and  we'll  trust  to  something 
turnin'  up  right." 

Daphne  rose  to  go. 

"You're  a — a — brick,  Miss  Doane." 

Drusilla  shook  her  finger  at  the  girl. 

"Young  lady,"  she  said  severely,  "I  know 
where  you  got  that.  Dr.  Eaton." 

Daphne's  pretty  face  flushed  and  she  put  her 
cheek  against  the  faded  one. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       195 

"We  must  not  talk  of— of  Dr.  Eaton.  Father 
doesn't  allow  it,  and — and  Dr.  Eaton  thinks  I'm 
only  a  flighty  little  girl,  who  is  never  serious,  if 
he  ever  thinks  of  me  at  all — which  I  am  afraid 
is  not  often — "  She  was  quiet  a  moment,  her 
hand  resting  against  the  soft  white  hair.  "But — 
well,  good  night.  I'll  let  you  know  when  Mary 
will  come,  and  then  you  can  get  into  trouble  right 
away." 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"You  trust  me  for  carrying  out  that  part  of  it. 
Good  night,  dear." 


CHAPTER  X 

following  Wednesday  Miss  Doane  re- 
A  ceived  a  message  to  the  effect  that  Daphne 
and  Mary  Deane  were  going  in  to  the  matinee 
that  day  and  would  stop  to  see  her  on  their  re 
turn.  She  passed  the  day  wondering  how  she 
could  legitimately  get  Mr.  James  Thornton  to 
stop  on  his  way  home  from  the  office ;  then  Provi 
dence  came  to  her  aid,  as  it  always  did.  James 
brought  her  word  that  the  chef  wished  to  speak 
to  her. 

"What  does  he  want  of  me,  James?" 

James  coughed  discreetly. 

"I  think  you  had  better  see  him,  Miss  Doane." 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  sharply  a  moment. 

"Well,  send  him  here,"  she  said. 

The  chef  came  into  the  room.  She  looked  at 
the  fat,  mustached  Frenchman  for  a  moment  be 
fore  she  spoke. 

"What  do  you  want  to  see  me  about,  cook?" 

The  chef  drew  himself  tip. 

"I  wish  to  pay  my  compliments  to  Madame 
and  say  I  can  no  longer  serve  her." 

196 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       197 

"You  mean  you  want  to  quit?" 

The  Frenchman  bowed. 

"Madame  comprehends." 

"Speak  English,  cook.     What  did  you  say?" 

"I  said  that  Madame  understands  perfectly." 

"Why  do  you  want  to  leave?" 

The  Frenchman  drew  himself  up  tragically. 
"I  can  no  longer  serve  Madame:  it  is  not  con- 
venable  to  my  dignity." 

"What's  hurtin'  your  dignity?" 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  cook  for  a  lot  of  babies, 
and — and — a  nigger  baby." 

Drusilla  looked  at  him  silently  for  a  moment. 

"Um-um — I  see,"  she  said.  "You  don't  think 
you  ought  to  cook  for  babies.  There  ain't  much 
cookin';  they're  mostly  milk  fed  now." 

"There  is  the  porridge  in  the  morning,  and  the 
soft-boiled  eggs,  and — and— 

"Oh,  you  object  to  cookin'  eggs  and  porridge. 
It  ain't  hard." 

"It  is  not  the  deefeeculty;  it  is  the  disgrace.  I 
am  a  great  artist — a  chef — it  hurts  the  soul  of  the 
artist  to — " 

"I  don't  want  an  artist  in  the  kitchen.  I  want 
a  cook.  Artists  paint  picters;  they  don't  boil 
potatoes.  What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  do  not  understand,  Madame.  I  am  an 
artist;  I  have  cooked  in  the  best  houses." 


198      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

"Ain't  this  a  good  house?" 

"It  was,  Madame;  and  I  was  proud  to  serve 
you  until  the  house  was  turned  into  an  orphan 
asylum,  a — a — home  for  children  of  the  street, 
and—" 

Drusilla  flushed  suddenly. 

"That'll  do,  cook.  I've  heard  all  I  want. 
Perhaps  you're  a  great  cook,  but  when  you  cook 
for  me  you'll  cook  for  whoever  is  under  my  roof. 
And  I  want  you  to  understand  that  this  is  not  an 
orphan  asylum.  These  children  are  my  visitors 
and  so  long  as  they're  in  my  house,  they'll  eat, 
and  if  you  don't  want  to  cook  for  them,  well — 
you  can  cook  for  some  one  else.  You  can  go, 
cook.  Mr.  Thornton'll  give  you  your  money." 

And  Drusilla  sat  down  a  very  angry  and  ruf 
fled  Drusilla. 

"Orphan  asylum,  indeed!  He'll  be  callin'  it 
a  home  next.  What  does  anybody  want  with  a 
man  in  the  kitchen — especially  a  man  who's  got 
more  hair  under  his  nose  than  on  his  head!" 

She  was  quiet  for  a  while;  then  she  laughed 
softly  to  herself. 

"The  Lord  takes  care  of  his  own.  Now  I  been 
wondering  all  day  how  to  get  that  man  here,  and 
here's  my  chance.  Jane,  tell  some  one  to  tele 
phone  Mr.  Thornton's  brother  to  stop  here  on  his 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       199 

way  from  the  office.     I  want  to  speak  to  him 
particularly." 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  before  the  lawyer's 
motor  stopped  before  Drusilla's  door.  When 
the  lawyer  came  in  Drusilla  said  to  herself,  "I 
don't  blame  his  girl  none.  He's  worse'n  his 
brother;"  but  she  turned  smilingly  to  him. 

"I'm  afraid  that  I've  called  you  in  on  business 
that'll  seem  mighty  little  to  a  man,"  she  said; 
"but  it's  big  to  a  woman.  I'm  changin'  cooks." 

Mr.  Thornton  smiled. 

"I  don't  see  where  you  require  my  services— 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do.  You  know  the  expenses  of 
this  house  are  kept  up  by  the  estate,  and  you  pay 
all  the  servants.  Now  I  don't  like  to  send  a  cook 
away  unless  I  tell  you.  But  this  cook's  goin 
and  he's  goin'  sudden." 

"Isn't  he  a  good  cook?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  he  is;  but,  between  you  and 
me  and  the  gatepost,  I  won't  be  sorry  to  see  the 
last  of  him.  I  guess  he's  a  fine  cook  for  fancy 
cookin',  but  I  been  used  to  plain  things  all  my 
life  and  I'm  tired  of  things  with  French  names. 
When  I  have  a  stew  I  like  to  have  a  stew,  and 
I'd  like  real  American  vittles  once  in  a  while. 
Some  good  pork  and  beans  and  cabbage  that  ain't 
all  covered  up  with  flummadiddles  so  that  I  don't 


200      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

know  I'm  eatin'  cabbage;  an'  I  like  vegetables 
that  ain't  all  cut  up  in  fancy  picters,  and  green 
corn  on  a  cob  without  a  silver  stick  in  the  end  of 
it.  I  liked  his  things  real  well  at  first;  but  he 
can't  make  pie  and  his  cakes  is  too  fancy — and, 
well — he  got  sassy  and  said  he  wouldn't  cook  for 
a  lot  of  babies,  and  he's  goin'.  You  just  be  sure 
of  that,  Mr.  Thornton;  he's  goin'." 

Mr.  Thornton  said  dryly:  "I  presume  it  is  a 
little  lowering  to  the  dignity  of  a  French  chef  to 
cook  for  a  lot  of  waifs— 

"Now  you  be  careful,  Mr.  Thornton,  or  you'll 
go  trottin'  along  with  the  cook.  I'm  a  little  bit 
techy  about  them  babies— 

The  man  flushed  and  rose  to  go. 

"I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you,  Miss  Doane. 
We  are  at  your  service.  What  do  you  want  me 
to  do?" 

"I  want  you  to  get  me  a  woman  cook — by  the 
way,  what  did  you  pay  that  cook?" 

"I  think,  if  I  remember  rightly,  he  receives  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  chair  aghast. 

"One  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month  for  a 
cook!  Elias  Doane  must  'a'  been  out  of  his 
head!" 

"I  think  that  is  not  an  exorbitant  price  for  a 


cook  with  the  reputation  of  this  one.  He  was 
for  many  years  with  Mr.  Doane." 

"To  think  of  it  costin'  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  month  before  you  got  anything  to  eat, 
and  all  give  to  that  fat,  lazy  Frenchman!  If  I'd 
'a'  knowed  it,  his  things  would  'a'  choked  me. 
And  your  brother  talked  to  me  about  the  expense 
of  keepin'  my  children!  Why,  you  git  me  a  fat 
Irish  woman,  who  likes  real  vittles,  and  who  ain't 
above  cookin'  oatmeal,  and  pay  her  about  fifty 
dollars  a  month,  and  she'll  suit  me  and  we'll  be 
savin'  enough  to  pay  for  the  babies." 

She  was  quiet  a  moment. 

"You  talked  kind  of  mean  about  my  babies, 
and  I  know  you  was  thinkin'  about  my  colored 
baby."  Then,  looking  at  him  suddenly:  "Did 
you  ever  see  a  colored  baby  when  he's  nothin'  on 
but  a  little  white  shirt?" 

The  lawyer  shook  his  head  stiffly. 

"I'm  afraid  my  duties  have  not  called  me  in 
the  neighborhood  of  colored  babies  dressed  only 
in  white  shirts." 

"Well,"  said  Drusilla,  "you've  missed  a  lot. 
But  I'm  goin'  to  begin  your  education  right  away. 
It's  just  bedtime.  You  come  with  me." 

And  before  the  astonished  lawyer  could  voice 
his  protest  he  was  being  hurried  down  the  hall 


202       DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

and  up  the  wide  stairs  to  the  big  nursery,  Dru- 
silla  pattering  along  at  his  side,  talking  all  the 
time. 

"You  know  every  one  wonders  why  I  keep 
this  little  Rastus — the  doctor  give  him  that  name 
—but  I  keep  him  just  to  make  me  laugh. 
Some  of  the  other  babies  make  me  want  to 
cry,  they're  so  sickly  and  puny,  but  you  can't 
cry  at  Rastus.  He's  goin'  away  next  week  to 
some  people  who'll  take  him  till  he's  old  enough 
to  go  to  that  big  colored  school  that's  run  by  Mr. 
Washington,  where  I'm  goin'  to  see  that  he's 
made  a  man  of,  and  show  people  what's  in  a  little 
black  boy.  But  just  look  at  him — here  he  is!" 

She  led  the  way  down  the  long  room,  lined  with 
beds  on  each  side,  to  where  a  girl  was  preparing 
a  very  happy  black  baby  for  bed.  As  Drusilla 
said,  he  was  clothed  only  in  a  little  white  shirt; 
and  as  his  plump  body  lay  over  the  nurse's  lap  he 
exposed  to  view  a  very  fat  little  back  and  a  pair 
of  dimpled  legs  that  were  kicking  in  evident  en 
joyment  of  the  rubbing  his  back  was  receiving  at 
the  hands  of  the  nurse. 

The  lawyer  stopped  at  the  nurse's  side  and 
watched  the  baby  for  a  moment.  Then  he  broke 
into  a  jolly  laugh. 

"You're  right,  Miss  Doane.  You  can't  help 
it."  And  before  he  was  really  aware  of  what  he 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       203 

did,  he  bent  over  the  squirming  baby  and  gave  it 
a  little  spank. 

The  baby  twisted  an  astonished  face  around 
the  nurse's  knee.  Seeing  the  man  looking  down 
at  him,  he  puckered  up  his  little  face  and  the  big 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Mr.  Thornton  stooped  quickly. 

"You  poor  little  tad!"  he  said.  "Did  I  scare 
you?  Here" — as  the  wails  became  louder — 
"come  here."  He  took  the  baby  into  his  arms 
and  tossed  him  high  over  his  head.  "It's  all 
right,  baby;  I  didn't  mean  it." 

As  he  was  holding  the  baby  above  him,  laugh 
ing  into  the  now  laughing  face,  a  voice  from  the 
doorway  said,  "Jim." 

Mr.  Thornton  nearly  dropped  the  baby  in  his 
astonishment.  He  looked  at  the  vision  of  the 
pretty  woman  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  then 
hastily  deposited  the  baby  in  the  nurse's  lap. 

"Mary!"  he  said.     "Mary!" 

She  came  to  him,  seeing  nothing  in  the  room 
but  the  man. 

"Oh,  Jim,  you  are  human  after  all.  You  are, 
you  are !" 

The  astonished  nurse  saw  a  woman  folded  in 
a  man's  arms  and  a  woman  crying  happily  on  a 
man's  shoulders. 

Drusilla  watched  them  for  a  moment  and  then 


204      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

went  to  the  door,  where  Daphne  was  waiting. 
The  girl  took  Drusilla's  hand  excitedly. 

"It  worked,  didn't  it,  Miss  Doane;  it  worked!" 

They  waited  in  Drusilla's  room  for  quite  a 
while  before  two  shamefaced  but  happy  looking 
people  appeared,  hand  in  hand.  Mr.  Thornton 
went  up  to  Drusilla  and  took  her  hand  in  both 
his  own. 

"Miss  Doane,"  he  said  enthusiastically,  "start 
all  the  asylums — red,  black,  or  yellow — that  you 
want.  Take  the  whole  African  race  if  you  want 
to,  and  I'll  see  that  you  get  cooks  enough  for 
them." 

Mary  Deane  laughed — the  laugh  of  a  happy 
woman  who  has  come  into  her  own. 

"And,  Miss  Doane,"  she  added,  "we'll  do  bet 
ter  than  that.  Rastus  isn't  your  colored  baby 
any  more.  He's  Jim's  and  mine.  We're  going 
to  see  to  his  education,  for  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
Rastus — well — perhaps  there'd  never  have  been 
a  happy  Mary." 

"Or,"  said  Mr.  Thornton  with  a  glad  laugh, 
"or  a  Sunny  Jim." 


CHAPTER  XI 

ALIGHT  tap  was  heard  on  the  door  of 
John's  sitting-room. 

"John,  are  you  still  up?     Can  I  come  in?" 

Before  John  could  answer,  Drusilla  was  in  the 
room. 

"John,  I'm  ashamed  of  you!  Has  this  been 
goin'  on  all  the  time,  and  I  didn't  know  it.  It's 
past  twelve." 

John  said  apologetically:  "It  isn't  late,  is  it, 
Drusilla?  I  didn't  think  of  the  time." 

"Late!  It's  past  twelve,  I  tell  you,  and  you 
had  ought  to  be  in  bed  gettin'  your  beauty  sleep. 
Nights  was  made  for  sleepin',  John  Brierly." 
John  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  no,  Drusilla;  nights  were  made  for  read 
ing.  There  is  no  joy  like  a  long  quiet  evening 
and  Carlyle,  for  example,  for  company." 

"He  couldn't  be  company  for  me  at  this  time 
o'  night.  But  you  don't  ask  me  nothin'  about 
my  dinner  party,  my  first  dinner  party,  and  my 
dance." 

John  looked  longingly  at  his  book,  then  care 
fully  placed  a  marker  in  it  and  closed  it. 

206 


"Now  don't  sigh,  John.  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you 
about  it  whether  you  want  to  hear  it  or  not.  I 
know  you'd  rather  read,  but  I  been  in  society  and 
I  must  talk." 

"I'm  only  anxious  to  hear  all  about  it,  Dru- 
silla." 

Drusilla  pulled  off  her  gloves  and  sat  down 
in  an  easy  chair  before  the  fire. 

"John,  there's  no  more  guile  in  you  than  in  a 
stick  of  molasses  candy,  but  you're  like  a  ser 
mon,  comfortin',  if  sort  of  uninteresting,  and  I 
can  talk  at  you  if  I  can't  talk  with  you.  Ask 
me  all  about  it,  git  me  started  somehow.  I'm  as 
full  of  conversation  as  an  egg  is  of  meat,  but  I 
don't  know  where  to  begin." 

"Did  you  enjoy  the  dinner?" 

"Did  I  enjoy  the  dinner!  That's  like  a  man 
to  think  about  the  vittles  first.  I  never  thought 
of  them.  They  was  numerous  and  plenty,  one 
thing  after  another  and  too  many  forks.  I 
couldn't  help  wonderin'  how  they  ever  washed 
all  the  dishes." 

"Where  was  it,  Drusilla?  I  don't  remember 
if  you  spoke  of  it  to  me." 

"John  Brierly,  you'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet. 
You  don't  think  you  heard  me  speak  of  it,  and  I 
didn't  talk  of  nothin'  else  for  three  days,  tryin' 
to  make  up  my  mind  whether  I'd  go  or  not,  only 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A   MILLION       207 
Mrs.    Thornton   was    so    particular    about   me 


comin'." 


"Yes,  I  do  remember  hearing  you  speak  of  it. 
It  was  at  the  Thorntons'." 

"Well,  it's  about  time  you  remember.  Yes, 
it  was  a  dinner  dance — whatever  that  is.  There 
was  about  forty  people  to  dinner  and  a  lot  of 
young  people  come  in  afterwards  to  dance.  I 
wish  you  could  'a'  seen  it,  John. 

"A  butler  about  like  James  met  us  in  the  hall 
and  we  took  off  our  wraps  in  a  room  and  went 
into  the  parlor.  'Tisn't  as  big  as  our'n  and  I 
was  a  little  late  and  they  was  all  there,  standin' 
around,  and  Mis'  Thornton  introduced  me  to  a 
lot  of  people,  and  then  a  man  handed  around 
somethin'  in  glasses — cocktails  I  think  she  said; 
anyway  it  tasted  like  hair  oil — and  little  pieces 
of  toast  with  spoiled  fish  eggs  on  'em;  and  we  et 
'em  standin'  up.  I  thought  I'd  gag,  but  I  said, 
'Drusilla  Doane,  be  a  sport  and  do  everything 
that  other  people  do.'  And  I  done  it,  although 
to-morrow  I'll  quite  likely  have  to  stay  in  bed. 
Finally  everybody  give  their  arm  to  some  one 
else,  at  least  the  men  did,  and  an  old  man  come  to 
me  and  I  took  his  arm  and  we  went  into  the 
dining-room.  There  was  five  small  tables  and 
they  was  pretty  with  candles  and  flowers  and  I 
had  a  little  card  at  my  place  to  tell  me  where  to 


208      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

set.  The  old  man  was  so  feeble  he  couldn't 
hardly  push  my  chair  in. 

"John,  I'm  glad  you  ain't  doddering.  Let's 
never  git  doddering  and  brag  about  our  dis 
eases.  It  seems  that  that's  all  some  men  have  to 
brag  about  when  they  git  old,  how  much  rheu- 
matiz  they  can  hold,  as  if  it's  a  thing  to  be 
proud  of. 

"I  listened  to  that  chronic  grunter  tell  me  his 
troubles  for  a  while,  then  I  turned  to  the  young 
man  on  the  other  side,  who  was  one  of  them 
shrewd-eyed  business  men;  and  I  hadn't  been 
settin'  there  five  minutes  before  I  knowed  that 
he  had  asked  to  set  by  me  and  that  he  had 
schemes.  Tried  to  git  me  interested  in  some  busi 
ness  venture  where  they  would  be  able  to  pay 
about  eight  hundred  per  cent.  I  told  him  I 
hadn't  heard  of  nothin'  paying  eight  hundred  per 
cent,  except  guinea  pigs  or  rabbits,  and  I  didn't 
want  to  invest  in  them,  and  after  a  while  he  saw 
it  wasn't  worth  while  to  try  to  git  me  interested 
in  mines  in  Alaska  or  coal  fields  in  Ohio,  so  he 
kind  of  laughed  and  we  got  to  be  good  friends. 
He  ain't  bad,  as  he  laughed  when  he  saw  it  wasn't 
no  use,  and  it's  a  great  strain  on  a  person's  re 
ligion  to  laugh  when  he  knows  he's  beat.  Then 
he  told  me  who  the  people  was  and  a  lot  about 
'em,  and  then  they  all  got  to  talkin'  and  a  woman 


was  there  who  believed  in  women  votin'  and  be 
ing  self-supportin'  and  not  dependin'  on  their 
husbands,  and  I  said  I  thought  a  self-supportin* 
wife  was  as  much  use  as  a  self-rockin'  cradle. 
They  talked  and  argued  but  this  woman  was  set 
in  her  ideas,  and  you  might  as  well  try  to  argue 
a  dog  out  of  a  bone  as  a  woman  like  that  out  of 
an  idee  once  she's  got  it  fixed  in  her  head.  I 
don't  like  a  woman  with  one  idee;  it's  like  a 
goose  settin'  on  one  egg.  They  use  up  lots  of 
time  and  git  skinny  and  don't  git  much  result 
after  all. 

"Then  another  man  at  the  table  who  had  a 
head  three  sizes  too  big  for  him  talked  a  lot  of 
stuff  I  couldn't  foller,  and  the  man  next  me  said 
he  was  the  brainiest  man  in  New  York.  He 
looked  as  if  he  had  indigestion  and  he  didn't  eat 
nothin',  and  I  couldn't  help  thinkin'  that  a  good 
reliable  set  of  insides  would  be  more  use  to  him 
than  any  quantity  of  brains,  but  I  didn't  say  it." 
"I'm  surprised  you  didn't,  Drusilla." 
"What's  that?  Well,  I  guess  I  would  if  I'd 
a  thought  of  it  in  time,  but  I  was  interested  in  the 
talk  about  the  'new  woman' — I  guess  that's  what 
they  called  her.  I  said  I  didn't  believe  too  much 
in  the  over-education  of  females.  That  I'd 
rather  be  looked  down  to  in  lovin'  tenderness 
than  up  to  in  silent  awe,  and  that  men  can't  love 


210      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

and  wonder  at  the  same  time.  I  don't  think  men 
want  to  set  women  so  high  up  that  they're  all  the 
time  wonderin'  how  she  got  there  an'  if  they  dare 
to  bring  her  down  to  their  level.  I  said  that  it 
seemed  to  me  that  love  exchanged  for  learnin' 
was  a  mighty  poor  bargain  for  the  woman  if 
she  wanted  happiness;  and  one  of  the  women 
that  set  at  the  table — the  kind  of  woman  that 
can't  hold  a  baby  without  its  clothes  comin'  apart 
—said  I  represented  the  old  school.  That 
things  was  changed  now;  that  marriage  was  not 
the  ultimate  objective — yes,  that's  what  she  said, 
the  ultimate  objective  of  women.  I  asked  her 
what  was  the  ultimate  objective,  and  she  said, 
'the  cultivation  of  her  own  individuality,  the  free 
ing  of  her  soul.'  I  asked,  couldn't  she  do  it 
just  as  well  with  a  man?  and  she  said,  no,  that 
man  impeded  woman's  progress.  I  said  that  I 
guessed  that  most  women  who  said  that  hadn't 
never  had  no  chance  to  git  close  enough  to  a  man 
to  have  him  git  in  her  way.  I  said  I'd  seen  lots 
of  women  who  said  they  hated  men,  but  they  gen 
erally  hadn't  had  a  chance  to  find  out  whether 
they  could  love  'em.  I  guess  I  was  like  a  blind 
mule  then,  kicking  out  in  space  and  hittin'  some 
thing  accidental,  'cause  she  got  red  and  then  I 
was  sorry  and  I  sort  of  tried  to  make  it  up.  I 
said,  'Of  course  there's  lots  of  marriages  that's 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       211 

mistakes,  'cause  a  lot  of  people  git  married  like 
they  learn  a  job,  take  about  three  weeks  to  it,  and 
that's  the  reason  there's  so  many  poor  workmen 
and  poor  marriage  jobs,  but  marriage  must  be  a 
pretty  good  thing  after  all,  'cause  I  never  saw  a 
widow  who  wasn't  ready  to  try  it  again.' 

"They  all  laughed  after  that  and  they  got  real 
talkative  and  human.  One  little  woman  was  aw 
ful  pretty,  and,  John,  she  had  on  the  littlest 
amount  of  clothes  above  her  wraist  that  I  ever  saw 
on  a  person  outside  a  bedroom.  She  said  she  en 
vied  me  my  motors  and  my  money,  and  I  laughed 
and  asked  her  if  she  envied  me  my  seventy  years 
too.  She  said,  'No,  but — '  and  I  said  to  her, 
'I  know  what  you  feel;  I've  wanted  things  too; 
and  it's  just  as  much  misery  to  want  a  motorcar 
as  it  is  to  want  a  shirt.'  One  man  there,  who 
looked  like  a  dried  up  herrin',  laughed  and 
laughed  and  said  that  he  hadn't  laughed  so  much 
for  years.  I  said  that  it  was  good  for  him,  and 
if  he'd  come  and  see  me  every  mornin'  I'd  agree 
to  make  him  laugh  once  a  day,  'cause  if  you  don't 
laugh  before  you  die,  you'll  go  out  of  the  world 
without  laughing,  and  you  don't  know  whether 
there'll  be  anything  to  laugh  at  in  the  next.  He 
said  he  was  comin'  to  see  me.  Why  don't  you 
look  jealous,  John?  Wait  till  I  tell  you  who  he 
is.  That  big  John  Craydon,  who  owns  all  of 


America  as  far  as  I  heard.  They  say  he's  the 
hardest  man  in  New  York,  and  that  when  he 
come  within  an  inch  of  dyin'  last  year  no  one 
would  'a'  cared  if  he  had  'a'  come  within  an  inch 
of  bein'  born,  as  he  ain't  done  nothin'  but  make 
money.  I'm  goin'  to  show  him  my  babies,  espe 
cially  Rastus,  and  I  know  he  ain't  hard.  Any 
man  that  can  laugh  as  hearty  as  he  did,  if  he  only 
does  it  once  a  year,  ain't  got  an  iron  heart. 

"The  old  man  on  the  other  side  of  me  didn't 
like  Mr.  Craydon.  He  mumbled  to  me,  'What 
doth  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose  his  own  soul' ;  and  I  said  it  was  accordin'  to 
the  size  of  the  soul,  and  then  he  quoted  that  old 
thing  about  it  being  easier  for  a  camel  to  go 
through  the  eye  of  a  needle — you  know  the  thing 
people  who  ain't  got  money  is  always  quoting 
about  people  who  has.  I  said  that,  according  to 
Scripter,  Heaven  might  look  like  a  circus  parade, 
it'd  be  so  full  of  camels ;  but  I  didn't  have  a  chance 
to  explain  what  I  meant  and  the  women  got  up 
and  went  into  the  parlor,  where  we  had  coffee. 
Pretty  soon  the  men  come  in  and  we  all  went  into 
the  dancin'-room. 

"And,  John,  I've  had  a  revelation.  St.  John's 
was  nothin'  compared  to  mine.  A  lot  of  young 
men  come  in,  men  with  no  chins  and  high  collars, 
and  young  girls  that  had  ought  to  have  had  gimps 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       213 

put  in  their  dresses;  and  the  way  they  slithered 
around  that  room  hugging  each  other— well,  for 
once  in  my  life,  I  couldn't  talk.  I  just  looked. 
It  wasn't  only  the  young  men  with  soft  heads  and 
loud  laughs  that  danced.  By  the  way,  they  was 
some  of  them  the  descendants  of  the  big  men  we 
read  about  in  the  papers,  and,  between  you  and 
me,  John,  great  descent  was  what  most  of  'em 
was  sufferin'  with.  But  old  men  and  women 
danced — old  men  especially  that  had  ought  to 
been  at  home  rubbin'  their  backs  with  goose 
grease.  I  just  thought  as  I  saw  them  old  men 
foolin'  around,  'It's  hard  for  an  old  dog  to  learn 
new  tricks,  but  an  old  man  hasn't  got  sense 
enough  not  to  try.'  And  what  do  you  think,  one 
of  them  young  nin-com-poops  come  and  asked 
me  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  turkey  trot.  That's 
what  he  said,  turkey  trot.  When  I  got  my 
breath,  I  said,  'Young  man,  there's  two  things 
in  life  I  ain't  never  prepared  for.  One's  twins, 
the  other's  to  turkey  trot — whatever  that  is — so 
you  run  along  to  the  chicken  yard;  you've  mis 
took  the  place.' 

"Then  I  moved  over  to  a  corner  by  some  paam 
trees,  as  I  was  afraid  one  of  them  old  men'd  come 
and  ask  me  to  bunny  hug  next,  and  I  always  been 
respectable.  As  I  was  a  settin'  there,  some  one 
come  and  set  down,  and  I  couldn't  help  hearin' 


214,      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

what  they  said.  He  wanted  to  go  home  and  she 
didn't  want  to  go,  and  he  said  he  was  tired  and 
had  to  git  up  early  and  that  he'd  been  out  four 
nights  this  week,  and  she  said  he  was  selfish  and 
didn't  want  her  to  enjoy  herself,  and  they  talked 
a  lot  and  then  he  got  up  in  a  huff  and  went  away. 
I  heard  a  little  sniffle  and  I  looked  around  the 
paams  and  there  set  that  pretty  girl  that  got  mar 
ried  about  three  months  ago  and  lives  in  the  Red 
House.  I  smiled  at  her  and  she  stopped  cryin' 
and  tried  to  pretend  she  hadn't  been,  and  then  I 
got  up  and  went  and  set  down  by  her  and  took 
her  hand  an'  kind  of  patted  it,  and  let  her  dry 
her  eyes.  When  she  seemed  better  I  said,  'Every 
wise  woman  buildeth  her  own  home,  but  the  fool 
ish  one  plucketh  it  down  with  her  own  hands.' 
Isn't  that  what  you  are  doin',  my  dear? 

"She  sniffed  again  and  I  thought  she  was  go 
ing  to  begin  all  over,  but  she  didn't.  She  said, 
'Bert  used  to  love  to  be  at  dances  with  me,  but 
now  he  always  says  he's  tired  and  wants  to  go 
home.' 

"  'Well,  dear,'  I  said,  'you're  his  wife  now,  and 
it's  different.  He  can  see  you  at  home,  and  have 
you  to  himself.  You're  not  just  the  girl  he 
dances  with.  The  things  a  man  wants  in  his  wife 
ain't  the  things  he  wants  in  the  girl  he  just  dances 
with,  any  more  than  the  vittles  he  wants  for 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      215 

breakfast  is  like  them  he  wants  for  dinner.     It's 
all  different  when  you're  married.' 

'  'But  Bert  is  selfish;  he  isn't  trying  to  make 
me  happy.' 

'  'Does  this  give  you  happiness?'  I  asked. 
'Why,  of  course;  it's  so  gay,'  she  said. 

"  'But  is  it  happiness?'  I  asked  again.  'Hap 
piness  and  bein'  gay  is  different,  and  you  don't 
need  to  go  to  things  like  this  for  happiness.  You 
find  it  at  home  if  you  stop  huntin'  for  it  outside. 
It's  like  my  specs  that  I  go  lookin'  all  over  the 
house  for  and  find  up  on  my  forehead  where  they 
was  all  the  time.  Now,  dear,  don't  make  a  mis 
take  and  go  fishing  for  happiness  with  a  red  rag 
instead  of  a  real  live  worm,  and  then  think  there 
ain't  no  fish  'cause  they  won't  bite.  You  got  the 
right  kind  of  bait  in  your  pretty  self,  in  your  nice 
home,  and  in  that  great  big  husband,  who,  a  per 
son  can  see  as  plain  as  a  wart  on  a  white  neck,  is 
all  over  in  love  with  you,  and  the  sea'll  be  just 
full  of  fish  for  you." 

"I  patted  her  hand  again,  as  I  was  afraid  she'd 
think  I  was  interferin',  but  she  didn't.  She  set 
quiet  a  while,  then  she  squeezed  my  hand,  and  I 
said,  'Now  I'm  goin'  home.  Git  on  your  bunnet 
and  find  your  Bert  and  I'll  drop  you  both  at  your 
house ;  and  when  you  git  home  git  him  something 
fillin'  to  eat  and  something  he  likes  to  drink,  and 


216      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

light  his  seegar  for  him  and  set  down  by  the  fire 
and  tell  him  that  real  hugs  is  better'n  all  the 
bunny  hugs  in  the  world,  and  you'll  find  you 
won't  be  lonesome.' 

"And  she  did,  John;  at  least  I  took  'em  home, 
and  they  held  hands  all  the  way  there,  though 
they  didn't  know  I  saw  'em." 

"Well,  Drusilla,  you  did  have  a  nice  time  after 
all.  I  suppose  you'll  be  going  out  every  night 
now." 

"John,  you  got  more  hair  then  sense.  I'm 
glad  I  haven't  died  before  I  seen  this  dinner 
dancin' ;  but  it's  like  them  spoiled  fish  sandwiches 
• — one  taste's  enough." 


CHAPTER  XII 

ONE  afternoon  Drusilla  was  working  in  her 
corner  of  the  greenhouse  transplanting  lily 
bulbs.  She  did  not  notice  the  entrance  of 
Daphne  until  she  heard  the  fresh  young  voice 
at  her  side. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Doane.  I  have  come 
on  business.  I  am  an  agent  to  enlist  your  serv 
ices." 

Drusilla  pushed  her  near-seeing  glasses  up  on 
her  forehead  so  that  she  could  the  better  regard 
the  pretty  face  before  her. 

"Well,  now,  what  company  is  hirin'  you? 
They  have  a  good  agent.  Is  it  a  book  or  a 
washin'  machine?" 

Daphne  laughed. 

"Neither,  Miss  Doane.  How  shocking!  I 
am  working  in  a  great  cause — the  cause  of  the 
poor." 

"So—"  said  Drusilla.  "What  do  you  know 
about  the  poor?" 

"Oh,  I  know  a  lot,  Miss  Doane.  I  am  one 
of  the  volunteer  workers  in  a  Settlement  house  in 
the  slums." 

217 


218      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"What's  that?  I  seem  to  disremember  what  I 
have  read  about  such  things,  if  I  have  ever  read 
about  them." 

"A  Settlement  is  a  lot  of  nice  people  who  go 
down  to  live  among  the  poor,  and  they  have  clubs 
where  the  boys  and  girls  can  come  evenings,  and 
they  have  sometimes  a  kindergarten  or  a  day 
nursery  where  the  mothers  who  go  out  to  work 
by  the  day  can  leave  their  children  while  they 
are  away,  and  they  give  free  baths  and  have  a 
medical  clinic.  Dr.  Eaton  gives  his  services  to 
one  twice  a  week,  and  there  is  a  district  nurse, 
and —  Oh  lots  of  things  are  done  for  the  poor  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Settlement  house." 

Drusilla  put  down  her  trowel  and  looked  in 
terested. 

"Do  tell!  How  nice  of  'em.  Are  they  paid 
to  do  it?" 

"Yes;  the  workers  who  live  in  the  Settlement 
get  a  salary.  But  girls  like  myself  give  a  day  a 
week,  or  every  once  in  a  while  go  there  and  help." 

"What  do  you  do?"  asked  Drusilla. 

"I — I — teach  sewing.     I  have  a  class." 

Drusilla  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  astonish 
ment. 

"You  teach  sewing?  You  have  a  sewing 
class?  I  didn't  know  you  sewed." 

"I — don't — much,  but  I  can  do  enough  for  a 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       219 

class  like  I  have.  They're  just  making  gym 
nasium  suits,  and  we  buy  the  pattern  and  I  get 
along  some  way." 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"Well,  for  a  girl  who  has  all  her  clothes  made 
and  keeps  a  maid  to  sew  on  her  buttons,  I  think 
it  is  very  nice  of  you  to  learn  girls  how  to  sew. 
You  must  be  a  great  help  in  that  work." 

Daphne  flushed. 

"Now  you're  laughing  at  me,  Miss  Doane." 

"No,  I'm  not  laughin';  but  it  seems  to  me — 
how  many  girls  you  got  in  your  class?" 

"I  have  ten." 

"How  old  are  they?" 

"About  twelve  to  fourteen  years." 

"When  do  you  learn  'em?" 

"Saturday  afternoon." 

"Well — well !  You  must  let  me  go  down  with 
you  some  day  and  see  you  learn  girls  to  make 
their  dresses.  I'd  surely  enjoy  the  sight." 

"That's  why  I  came  to  you  to-day.  Our  Set 
tlement  wants  me  to  bring  you  down." 

Drusilla  looked  up  inquiringly  and  a  little  sus 
piciously. 

"Why  do  they  want  you  to  bring  me  down?" 

Daphne  said  rather  hesitatingly:  "Well — 
they  would  like  to  interest  you  in  their  mother's 
summer  home." 


"What's  that?" 

"They  have  a  home  in  the  country  where  they 
send  some  of  the  poor  mothers  who  live  in  the 
tenements  and  can't  get  away  for  the  summer." 

"I  s'picioned  it  was  a  subscription  they  want; 
but  it  sounds  like  a  good  thing,  and  I'd  like  to 
know  about  it." 

"Won't  you  come  with  me  to-day?  We'll 
talk  with  Mrs.  Harris,  the  head  worker,  and  she'll 
tell  you  all  about  it." 

"Well — I  don't  know — "  looking  at  her  plants. 
"I'd  ought—" 

"Oh,  please  come,  Miss  Doane.  You  haven't 
anything  to  do,  have  you?" 

"I  don't  know  as  I  have  anything  particular, 
though  sence  I  got  these  babies,  my  days  is  as 
full  as  a  wine  cup.  But  if  you  want  me — " 

"That's  right ;  I  knew  you  would !  Come  right 
away — I  must  get  to  my  class." 

Drusilla  \viped  her  hands  on  her  apron  and 
went  into  the  house.  Soon  she  was  ready  and 
they  were  being  whirled  swiftly  toward  the  East 
Side,  a  part  of  New  York  that  Drusilla  had  never 
visited.  She  was  interested  in  the  women  as  they 
sat  upon  the  tenement  steps,  and  in  the  many, 
many  children  playing  in  the  streets.  Spring 
was  in  the  air,  although  it  could  hardly  be  recog 
nized  here  except  by  the  people  loitering  in  the 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

streets  in  order  to  get  away  from  the  crowded 
homes. 

"What  a  lot  of  people!"  said  Drusilla. 
"Where  do  they  all  come  from — and  the  chil 
dren!  I  never  saw  so  many  children  in  my 
life." 

"Oh,  but  you  should  see  it  in  July  and  Au 
gust,"  Daphne  laughed.  "Then  it  is  crowded, 
and  the  people  sleep  on  the  fire-escapes  and  even 
on  the  sidewalks  in  some  of  the  smaller  streets. 
It  is  so  hot  in  their  stuffy  rooms." 

Soon  they  drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  Set 
tlement,  and  were  received  in  the  parlor  by  the 
head  worker.  Daphne  left  Drusilla,  to  go  to  her 
sewing-class,  and  Mrs.  Harris  conducted  Dru 
silla  over  the  Settlement.  She  was  shown  the 
kindergarten,  the  club  rooms  where  the  boys  and 
girls  of  the  neighborhood  danced  in  the  evening, 
the  clinic,  the  public  baths,  and  the  play  yard. 
Then  she  asked  to  be  taken  to  see  Daphne  with 
her  sewing-class,  as  she  could  not  get  over  the 
idea  that  it  was  a  joke  of  some  kind  for  Daphne 
to  teach  sewing,  knowing  that  the  girl  knew  noth 
ing  about  the  work.  They  found  Daphne  ab 
sorbed  in  cutting  out  very  full  trousers  and  middy 
blouses  by  the  aid  of  a  paper  pattern,  while  eight 
girls  were  basting  and  stitching  them.  Drusilla 
watched  them  for  a  while. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Is  this  all  the  sewing-class  you  have?"  she 
asked. 

"It  is  all  we  have  at  present,"  Mrs.  Harris  an 
swered. 

"Do  the  girls  in  the  neighborhood,  the  grown 
girls,  learn  it?" 

"No ;  they  all  work,  and  have  only  their  even 
ings." 

"Why  don't  you  have  an  evening  class?" 

"We  have  thought  of  that,  but  it  is  hard  to  get 
a  girl  like  Daphne  to  come  down  in  the  evening." 

Drusilla  watched  Daphne  frowning  over  the 
intricacies  of  the  pattern. 

"Now  I  think  it  is  nice  of  Daphne,"  she  said, 
"to  want  to  come  here  and  help  them  girls  learn 
to  sew;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  she'd  be  doin'  a 
good  deal  more  good  to  the  girls  if  she  hired  a 
woman,  some  one  who  needed  the  work  and 
knowed  dressmaking,  to  come  and  really  learn 
the  girls  to  make  their  dresses.  Learn  'em  from 
the  start,  from  cuttin'  out  the  cloth  to  sewin'  up 
the  seams  and  makin'  the  last  buttonhole.  Them 
girls  don't  want  to  learn  how  to  make  them  big 
pants  and  that  shirt;  they  want  to  make  their 
clothes — something  pretty  they  can  wear.  I 
think  a  lot  of  Daphne,  but  she'd  be  doin'  more 
good  if  she  hired  some  one  who  knowed  her  busi- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       223 

ness  instead  of  tryin'  to  do  somethin'  she  don't 
know  nothin'  about.  Quite  likely  it  does  her 
good,  but  so  far  as  I  can  see  it  don't  do  the  girls 
much  good." 

The  head  worker  flushed,  as  did  Daphne. 

"We  like  to  interest  the  girls  from  homes  like 
Miss  Thornton's  to  come  down  and  help  the  peo 
ple  less  fortunate  than  themselves." 

"Yes,  that's  good  too;  interest  them.  I  saw 
Daphne  pay  five  dollars  for  a  box  of  candy  the 
other  day,  and  it's  bad  for  her  complexion.  In 
stead  of  buying  them  things  let  her  hire  some 
one,  I  say.  She  can  come  just  the  same,  but  let 
a  dressmaker  or  a  sewing  woman  learn  'em  to 
sew;  not  a  girl  who  ain't  even  sewed  a  button 
on  her  own  clothes  or  made  a  pocket  handker 
chief.  And  then  she'd  be  helpin'  the  dressmaker 
too,  who  might  need  the  money.  If  you  had 
some  sensible  sewing  learnt  you  might  git  some 
of  the  girls  who  work  days  to  come  in  evenings 
and  learn,  but  no  girl  is  goin'  to  waste  her  time 
fiddlin'  around  with  things  like  that,  that  they 
ain't  goin'  to  use,  or  don't  have  no  need  of." 

"But  they  do  need  them.  They  are  gym 
nasium  suits." 

"What's  gymnasium  suits?" 

"Suits  to  take  exercise  in,  physical  exercise." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Do  they  need  special  clothes  to  take  exercise 
in  ?  What's  the  matter  with  the  clothes  they  got 
on?" 

"They  restrict  the  movements." 

"You  mean  they  can't  move  their  arms  and 
legs.  Fudge  and  fiddlesticks!  Put  them  girls 
out  to  play  and  they'd  move  their  arms  and  legs 
quick  enough  without  fancy  clothin'.  If  they 
can't  move  'em  with  the  exercises  you  give  'em, 
give  'em  other  kinds.  It  seems  to  me  that  if 
these  people  are  as  poor  as  you  tell  me,  exercise 
ain't  what  they  want.  They  want  to  learn  things 
to  help  'em  pay  the  rent  at  home,  or  save  a  little 
money  once  in  a  while  by  makin'  their  things." 

Mrs.  Harris  was  a  little  angry. 

"I  am  sorry,  Miss  Doane,"  she  said  stiffly, 
"that  you  don't  approve  of  our  sewing-class." 

"Xo,  I  don't  approve  of  it.  With  a  teacher 
like  Daphne  it's  about  as  much  use  as  squirtin' 
rose-water  on  a  garbage  tin.  If  the  rest  of  your 
work  is  like  this,  I  guess  I'll  go  home- 
She  started  to  leave  the  room,  but  at  the  door 
she  stopped. 

"What's  that  Daphne  was  tellin'  me  about  a 
home  for  mothers  in  the  country?" 

The  head  worker's  face  brightened.  Here  she 
had  something  that  would  appeal  to  the  old  lady, 
who  was  reputed  to  be  very  fond  of  children. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       225 

"I  am  so  glad  you  came  to-day.  I  can  show 
you  some  of  the  mothers  we  were  hoping  to  take 
to  the  country.  We  want  to  enlarge  our  house, 
we  can  only  accommodate  twelve  mothers  with 
their  children,  and  we  should  have  a  place  for  at 
least  twenty-five,  as  we  have  so  many  applica 
tions." 

"How  long  do  you  keep  'em?" 

"We  try  to  give  each  mother  a  two  weeks'  va 
cation  ;  and  she  brings  with  her  the  small  children 
she  cannot  leave  at  home." 

"I  like  the  idee.  I  like  children  and  I  like 
mothers,  and  from  what  I've  seen  it  seems  to  me 
that  it'd  be  heaven  for  these  people  to  git  away 
from  the  noise  for  a  while.  It  most  drives  me 
crazy  to  hear  it  for  an  hour,  and  it  must  be  awful 
to  live  with." 

"They  get  used  to  it;  but  they  do  need  a 
change.  Some  of  the  poor  mothers  are  com 
pletely  worn  out  and  break  down  in  the  hot 
weather.  If  they  could  get  into  the  country, 
even  for  a  short  time,  it  would  save  many  a  life." 

"Pshaw,  is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  said  sympathetic 
Drusilla. 

"Yes;  this  year  is  especially  bad.  We  had 
hoped  to  have  the  money  to  build  an  additional 
wing  to  the  house  and  take  all  our  people;  but 
we  have  not  been  able  to  get  the  money,  so  we 


226      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

have  to  tell  a  great  many  whom  we  have  promised 
that  they  cannot  go  this  year,  and — I  am  afraid 
it  will  be  a  great  disappointment." 

Here  an  inspiration  came  to  Mrs.  Harris. 

"By  the  way,  Miss  Doane,  I  was  going  this 
afternoon  to  tell  one  of  the  mothers  that  she  can 
not  go  this  year.  Would  you  like  to  come  with 
me,  then  you  can  see  for  yourself  how  very  much 
the  place  is  needed." 

Drusilla  brightened. 

"I'd  like  to  go,"  she  said. 

The  worker  hesitated. 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  contagion?" 

"There  ain't  nothin'  cat  chin'  in  the  house,  is 
there?  I  don't  want  to  git  the  smallpox  at  my 
time  of  life,  or  the  mumps — " 

Mrs.  Harris  laughed. 

"No,  nothing  as  bad  as  that ;  but  the  tenements 
are  not  overly  clean,  you  know." 

"Pshaw,  I  don't  care  about  that.  If  they  can 
live  in  'em  all  the  year,  I  guess  it  won't  hurt  me 
to  visit  'em  for  ten  minutes." 

They  entered  the  motor,  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  noisy  children  who  clung  to  the  foot 
board  and  hung  on  the  back  and  made  them 
selves  into  a  noisy  escort  until  the  tenement 
was  reached.  There  Drusilla  and  Mrs.  Harris 
climbed  three  flights  of  stairs.  In  answer  to  the 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       227 

knock,  a  soft  voice  said,  Entre  lei,  and  they 
stepped  into  a  room  that  was  evidently  the 
kitchen,  living-  and  dining-room. 

Near  the  only  window  in  the  room  was  a 
kitchen  table.  Around  it  sat  the  father,  the 
mother,  a  little  boy  of  nine,  two  younger  girls, 
and  a  little  round-faced  boy  of  four,  while  two 
other  children,  mere  babies,  were  playing  on  the 
floor.  The  people  at  the  table  were  sticking  mar 
guerites  onto  wreaths,  about  ten  flowers  to  a 
wreath.  The  flowers  were  in  bundles  stuck  to 
gether,  and  the  little  boy  took  them  apart  and 
handed  them  to  the  other  children,  who  took  yel 
low  stems  from  other  bundles,  dipped  them  into 
paste,  then  into  the  center  of  the  marguerite 
and  handed  the  finished  flower  to  the  father  or 
mother,  who  placed  it  in  position  on  the  wreath. 
They  worked  quickly,  showing  long  practice. 

The  mother  gave  chairs  to  her  guests;  then 
went  back  to  her  work. 

"I  have  come,  Mrs.  Tolenti,"  Mrs.  Harris  said, 
"to  tell  you  about  the  country." 

"Si,"  and  the  dark  Italian  face  brightened.  "I 
ready  go  any  day." 

"I  am  sorry,  awfully  sorry,  but  we  have  no 
place  for  you  this  year." 

The  Italian  woman  looked  at  the  speaker  un- 
comprehendingly. 


228      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"sir 

"I  am  sorry,"  Mrs.  Harris  began  again,  speak 
ing  slowly,  "that  we  cannot  take  you.  We  have 
not  been  able  to  enlarge  the  house,  and  there  were 
so  many  applications  ahead  of  you." 

The  woman  looked  at  her  blankly  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  Drusilla  saw  that  she  understood. 
Her  mouth  drooped  and  quivered,  her  hands  fal 
tered  in  their  work,  but  only  for  a  moment.  Me 
chanically  she  put  the  flower  into  the  paste, 
then  placed  it  on  the  wreath.  She  worked 
quietly  for  several  moments. 

"I  hope  next  year,  Mrs.  Tolenti — " 

But  Mrs.  Harris  was  interrupted. 

"I  no  wanta  next  year.  I  wanta  dis  year,  I 
wanta  now!  I  tired.  I  wanta  see  da  country. 
I  wanta  see  da  flower,  not  dese  tings — I  hata 
dem."  She  gave  the  flowers  in  front  of  her  a 
push.  "I  hata  dem!  I  wanta  see  da  rosa  on  da 
bush,  I  wanta  see  da  leaves  on  da  tree.  I  wanta 
put  ma  face  in  da  grass  lak  when  I  young  girl  in 
Capri.  I  wanta  look  at  da  sky,  I  wanta  smell 
da  field.  I  wanta  lie  at  night  wi  ma  bambini  and 
hear  da  rain.  I  no  can  wait  one  year,  I  wanta  go 
now!" 

"But,  Mrs.  Tolenti,"  Mrs.  Harris  said,  se 
cretly  a  little  elated  at  the  storm  she  had  raised, 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       229 

which  she  could  see  was  impressing  Miss  Doane, 
"I  had  no  idea  you  felt  it  so  strongly— 

"Yes,"  the  low  voice  continued,  "I  feel  it  here'' 
pointing  to  her  breast.  She  was  quiet  for  a 
while,  then  went  on  in  the  low,  monotonous  voice 
of  the  desperate  poor.  "This  winter  ver  bad. 
My  man  no  work.  Sometime  go  wood  yard,  but 
only  fifty  cents  one  day.  He  walk,  walk,  walk, 
looka  for  work.  We  must  eat,  we  must  pay  rent. 
We  all  work  maka  da  flower,  but  no  can  maka 
da  mon.  Fi'  cent  a  gross  for  da  wreath.  It  taka 
long  time  to  maka  one  dozen  dozen  wreath,  and 
only  git  n"  cent.  No  can  live.  I  canno'  live 
every  day,  every  day  da  same.  Nine  year  I  stay 
here  maka  da  flower,  always  maka  da  flower. 
Nine  year  I  no  go  away  from  dis  street.  But  dis 
year  I  tink  I  go  to  da  country.  When  I  set  here 
maka  da  flower  I  say  three  mont  more,  two  mont 
more,  one  mont  more,  den  I  see  da  grass,  I  hear 
da  bird,  I  shuta  ma  eyes,  I  tink  I  again  in  my 
Capri — Oh,  Dio  mio!"  She  turned  suddenly 
and  let  her  face  fall  upon  her  arms,  stretched 
out  on  the  pile  of  flowers  before  her.  "Der  ain't 
no  God  for  poor  man,  der  ain't  no  God!" 

Mrs.  Harris  looked  at  her  sadly  and  said  noth 
ing;  b.ut  the  tears  were  streaming  down  the  face 
of  Drusilla  and  she  impulsively  rose  from  her 


230      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

seat  and  coming  to  the  mother,  put  her  arms 
round  the  shaking  shoulders,  and  said  quietly: 

"You  certainly  shall  go  to  the  country  with 
your  babies.  You  certainly  shall  go.  Don't 
think  a  moment  again  about  it." 

The  woman  did  not  raise  her  face  nor  seem 
to  understand;  dry  sobs  shaking  her  worn  and 
wasted  body.  She  seemed  utterly  broken  and 
disheartened. 

Drusilla  turned  to  Mrs.  Harris. 

"Will  you  make  her  understand?" 

The  worker  said  something  to  the  father,  and 
he  nodded  his  head  and  they  went  from  the  room. 
Drusilla  stopped  at  the  door  to  take  a  last  look 
around  the  room,  at  the  wondering  faces  of  the 
children  who  watched  her  with  great  black  eyes, 
but  wrho  did  not  stop  their  fingers  from  separat 
ing  and  placing  the  flowers  together  again.  She 
saw  the  babies  on  the  floor  playing  quietly,  as  if 
they  too  were  oppressed  by  the  tragedy  that  was 
always  before  them,  and  then  she  looked  at  the 
blank  wall  outside  the  window,  and  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  lives  of  these  hopeless  poor  were 
like  that  window,  only  a  blank  wall  to  face. 

They  arrived  at  the  Settlement  house  and  Mrs. 
Harris  ordered  tea  to  be  brought  to  her  sitting- 
room.  She  was  delighted  at  the  effect  of  her 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      231 

visit,  and  her  imagination  ran  riot  in  the  thought 
of  the  additions  that  might  be  made  to  the  sum 
mer  home  for  mothers. 

Drusilla  was  quiet  during  tea,  but  when  it  was 
carried  away  she  spoke. 

"Now  tell  me  about  your  home.  You  say  you 
want  to  make  an  addition,  add  an  ell  or  some 
thing." 

"Yes;  we  think  by  adding  a  wing  we  can 
double  our  capacity.  But  I  have  the  plans  of 
the  new  work,  and  a  picture  and  plans  of  the  pres 
ent  house." 

She  brought  a  book  of  views  with  an  architect's 
drawings  of  the  new  hoped-for  wing,  and  the  pic 
tures  and  plans  of  the  present  house.  Drusilla 
drew  her  glasses  from  her  bag  and  bent  over  the 
new  plans;  then  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
house  now  in  use. 

"You  say  this  is  where  they  are  at  present? 
Which  is  the  rooms  you  use  for  the  mothers?" 

The  worker  pointed  them  out. 

"We  have  six  beds  in  this  room,  and  four  beds 
in  this,  and  five  beds  in  this  room.  In  this  long 
room  we  can  put  about  twelve  cots  for  the  chil 
dren  that  do  riot  have  to  be  with  their  mothers 
during  the  night.  This  is  the  dining-room;  this 
the  living-room." 


232      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

Drusilla  caught  sight  of  some  rooms  upstairs. 

"What's  these  three  rooms.  Who're  they 
for?" 

"Those  are  for  the  workers  who  go  out  for  the 
week-end." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  the  week-end?" 

"From  Saturday  to  Monday." 

"You  mean  the  women  who  work  here  like 
yourself  go  out  there  and  spend  Saturday  and 
Sunday?" 

Yes." 

"But  why  do  you  need  three  rooms?" 

"Well,  you  see  there  are  a  great  many  workers 
here,  and  they  take  turns,  and  often  three  or  four 
of  them  go  out." 

"They  each  have  a  room  to  themselves?" 

"Yes,  you  see  they  are  in  the  noise  here  all  the 
week,  and  they  must  have  a  place  where  they  can 
rest  and  have  quiet." 

Drusilla  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"What  do  you  do  with  the  rooms  the  rest  of 
the  time?" 

"They  are  vacant." 

"You  don't  put  none  of  the  mothers  in  'em?" 

"Certainly  not.  We  could  not  use  them  if 
they  had  been  occupied  by  the  class  of  people  we 
send  out." 

"Why  don't  you  double  up  when  you  go  out, 


DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION      233 

and  not  take  so  much  room?  You  could  put  four 
beds  in  that  room  and  all  be  together  and  use 
them  other  rooms  for  mothers." 

"That  would  be  hard  on  our  workers.  They 
like  their  privacy.  And  then  we  would  not  like 
the  mothers  and  their  children  so  close  to  us. 
They  would  disturb  us  and  we  could  not  get  the 
rest  we  need." 

Drusilla  was  quiet  for  a  moment,  drumming 
lightly  on  the  table  with  her  fingers. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  rest  or  sleep  at  night 
with  a  cry  in  your  ears  like  that  I  jest  heard  from 
that  mother.  I'd  sleep  on  a  board  by  the  side  of 
the  fence  to  let  her  get  a  chance  to  'put  her  face 
in  the  grass'  as  she  says.  How  can  you  talk 
about  privacy  and  quiet  when  you  see  such  misery 
and  unhappiness  as  that  I  jest  saw?  No,  don't 
stop  me—  '  as  she  saw  Mrs.  Harris  raise  her 
flushed  face  and  open  her  lips  as  if  to  speak — 
"I'm  all  wrought  up.  I'll  hear  that  mother's  cry 
and  see  her  poor  body  bent  over  that  table,  and 
those  babies  settin'  there  workin'  when  they  ought 
to  be  out  playin'  as  long  as  I  live.  And  you  see 
them  and  hear  them  every  day  and  yet  can  talk 
about  havin'  to  have  quiet  and  privacy!  And 
you  take  the  three  best  rooms  in  a  house  that's 
supported  by  people  who  think  they  are  giving 
some  poor  Italian  family  an  outin'  in  the  coun- 


234,      DRUSILLA   WITH    A   MILLION 

try!  You  could  all  go  in  one  room  and  that 
would  mean  that  five  or  six  more  mothers  could 
go;  the  woman  we  left  up  there  could  go — in 
stead  of  keeping  the  rooms  for  women  who  have 
a  nice  place  like  your'n  here."  She  looked  with 
scorn  around  the  cozily  furnished  room.  "And 
you  keep  them  for  only  one  or  two  days  a  week ! 
I  can't  talk,  I'm  all  wrought  up." 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  chair  and  fanned  her 
self  with  the  book  of  views. 

The  worker  was  aghast.  She  had  not  thought 
of  any  possible  outcome  except  the  one  for  which 
she  had  been  planning. 

"But  you  see,  Miss  Doane,  when  we  have  a 
wing — " 

"I'd  'a'  give  you  a  wing,  or  two  wings,  or  a 
whole  batch  of  wings,  if  I  hadn't  seen  them  three 
rooms.  How'd  I  know  that  you  wouldn't  take 
the  best  rooms  for  the  rest  of  your  workers;  or 
perhaps  your  cook  might  need  rest  or  privacy 
for  a  part  of  the  week.  No — "  shaking  her  old 
head  vigorously — "I'll  build  my  own  wings  where 
I  can  watch  'em." 

She  rose  then. 

"I  must  be  goin'.  Will  you  send  for  Daphne? 
I  want  to  think  about  what  I  can  do  for  that 
family.  I'll  give  her  my  own  room  if  I  have 
to,  but  she's  goin'  to  the  country!" 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       235 

Daphne  came  in  soon,  and  looked  quickly  at 
Drusilla's  flushed,  excited  face. 

"Did  you  have  a  nice  time,  Miss  Doane?  Isn't 
it  a  wonderful  work?" 

"Yes,  I  had  a  lovely  time,  and  I  learnt  a  lot. 
Thank  you  so  much  for  your  tea,  Mis'  Harris. 
I'm  real  glad  I  come." 

And  before  the  chagrined  hostess  could  find 
words  in  which  to  try  to  rectify  her  mistake,  Dru- 
silla  was  in  the  motor. 

Daphne  looked  at  the  angry  old  lady  curiously. 

"Weren't  you  interested,  Miss  Doane  ?  Aren't 
you  going  to  help  the  Settlement?  They  need 
money  so  hadly  for  their  summer  home — 

"Now,  Daphne,  don't  talk  to  me  about  the 
summer  home!  You  know  we  got  a  big  lot  of 
things  and  people  that  always  is  asking  me  for 
money.  I  git  a  heap  of  letters  every  morning 
from  preachers,  and  charity  workers  and  beggars 
and  poor  people,  and  people  who  are  trying  to 
make  a  fool  of  me,  and  git  my  money.  I  guess 
there  ain't  a  person  in  New  York  or  an  institu 
tion  that's  got  a  want,  but  they  feel  that  it  won't 
do  no  harm  for  to  try  me." 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  you  were  bothered. 
Why  don't  you  have  them  all  sent  to  Father?" 

"Humph — mighty  little  attention  they'd  git. 
No,  I  go  over  'em  all  myself,  with  Dr.  Eaton. 


You  didn't  know  he  was  my  private  advisor,  did 
you?  He's  a  fine  young  man  and  he's  got  a 
head  on  his  shoulders;  and  him  and  me  go  over 
all  the  letters  and  them  that  he  thinks  that  is 
honest,  he  sees,  and  then  he  tells  me  what  he 
thinks  we  had  better  do.  He's  got  sense  and 
don't  let  me  git  foolish,  because  sometimes  the 
letters  or  the  cases  is  so  pitiful  that  I  can't  help 
cryin',  and  generally  them's  the  ones  he  finds  is 
no  good.  I  been  visitin'  institutions  with  him, 
orphan  asylums,  and  rescue  homes.  We  got  a 
lot  of  new  babies  and  their  mothers  comin'  to  the 
house  next  week ;  we  got  them  from  the  hospitals. 
He's  workin'  out  a  plan  for  me,  and  now  I  want 
to  talk  to  him  about  them  mothers  and  the  coun 
try.  We  are  going  by  his  office,  as  I  can't  wait 
until  he  comes  out  to-night." 

Daphne  flushed. 

"We  might  take  him  out  with  us." 

"That's  a  good  idea,  Daphne.  You  go  up  to 
his  office  and  tell  him  to  come  down  an  we'll 
take  him  home.  I  want  to  talk  and  he  can  stay 
to  dinner." 

"Can't  I  stay  too — "  shyly  said  Daphne,  slip 
ping  her  hand  into  Drusilla's. 

Drusilla  looked  down  at  her  and  laughed. 

"No,  you  can't.  Your  father  wouldn't  like 
it,  and  besides  if  you  are  there  the  doctor  won't 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION       237 

talk  sense.     He'll  jest  set  and  look  at  you." 

Daphne  laughed  happily. 

"I  wish  I  thought  he  liked  to  look  at  me, 
but—" 

"But  what?" 

"Well — he  doesn't  ever  seem  very  anxious  to 
see  me.  He's  invited  to  lots  of  places  where  he 
knows  I  will  be,  and  he  doesn't  come." 

"You  mean  dances  and  things  like  that. 
Laws  sakes,  Daphne,  ain't  he  got  nothin'  better 
than  to  go  to  dances  and  daddle  around  the  room 
with  a  fool  girl— 

"But  I'm  not  a  fool  girl." 

"No  one  would  know  it  by  your  actions  some 
times." 

"I  guess  you  are  right,  Miss  Doane.  I  do  act 
as  if  nothing  were  worth  while  but  having  a  good 
time." 

"Yes;  I  seen  a  lot  of  your  friends  and  I  often 
think  that  a  young  man's  takin'  a  lot  of  risk  by 
marryin'  one  of  you  unless  he's  got  nothin'  to  do 
in  the  world  but  to  go  to  parties  and  to  make 
money  to  buy  you  clothes  and  motorcars.  But 
never  mind — here  we  are.  You  go  upstairs  and 
get  the  doctor.  Tell  him  I  want  to  talk  to  him 
particular." 

Daphne  was  gone  longer  than  was  actually 
needed  to  go  to  an  office  and  fetch  a  man  to  the 


238      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

motor  car,  but  Drusilla  only  smiled  when  they 
came  down. 

"Did  we  keep  you  waiting?  I  am  so  sorry," 
murmured  Daphne. 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"Yes,  you  look  worried  to  death;  but  I  won't 
scold  you.  You  don't  git  much  chance  to  talk 
alone  together,  and  I  suppose  you  wanted  to  dis 
cuss  the  latest  improvements  in  medicine.  It's 
a  big  subject  and  would  take  time." 

"Oh,  no,  we  didn't  talk  at  all — the  doctor- 
was  busy — " 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"What  is  it  you  want  to  see  me  about,  Miss 
Doane?" 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  mothers  and 
their  babies.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  after  din 
ner.  Daphne's  goin'  home  and  you  and  me  and 
John'll  set  down  and  talk  it  all  over.  John  ain't 
no  good;  he  ain't  what  you  call  sensible,  but  he's 
comfortable.  And  I  got  some  new  things  on 
my  mind. 

"Yes,"  broke  in  Daphne.  "Miss  Doane  has 
been  visiting  our  Settlement." 

The  doctor  smiled. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

Before  Drusilla   could  reply,   Daphne   said: 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"What  do  you  think  Dr.  Eaton  calls  them,  Miss 
Doane?  It's  dreadful.  He  calls  them  the  'de 
cayed  gentle  ladies'  refuge.' ' 

The  doctor  flushed. 

"Daphne—" 

"Do  you?"  queried  Drusilla,  interestedly. 
"Why?" 

"Well — "  the  doctor  said  rather  apologetic 
ally,  "perhaps  I  shouldn't;  but  most  of  the  set 
tlements  that  I  know  are  filled  with  workers  who 
are  charming  women,  too  good  to  be  stenog 
raphers  or  clerks  or  housekeepers.  They  come 
to  the  settlements,  where  they  receive  a  good  sal 
ary  and  keep  their  social  position,  which  they 
feel  they  could  not  do  if  they  worked.  You  see 
it's  rather  a  fad  to  be  a  social  settlement  worker, 
and  most  of  the  women  couldn't  make  their  liv 
ing  to  save  their  soul  at  work  that  really  took 
trained  brains  or  executive  ability." 

"Do  tell!"  said  Drusilla.  "I  kind  of  thought 
something  like  that  when  I  saw  Mrs.  Harris,  but 
she  seemed  to  be  real  pert." 

"Oh,  I  am  only  generalizing.  Some  of  them, 
the  heads  especially,  are  competent  women,  but 
the  great  average — "  and  he  spread  his  hands 
out  expressively. 

"Well,  anyway,  Dr.  Eaton— you  remember 


240      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

that  big  blue  pencil  that  we  use  to  draw  across 
the  names  that  ain't  no  good? — I  got  a  new  name 
to-day  to  add  to  that  list — settlements — and  I 
want  to  git  home  and  sharpen  the  pencil." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DRUSILLA  had  one  neighbor  whom,  to  use 
her  own  words,  she  "couldn't  abide."  Miss 
Sarah  Lee  lived  across  the  road  from  her,  in  a 
small  house  left  her  by  her  father.  This  old 
man  had  also  left  her  money  enough  to  live  in  a 
modest  way,  and  an  unkind  Providence  had  left 
her  high  and  dry  on  the  matrimonial  shores,  and 
she  was  embittered.  She  had  been  born  and 
reared  in  Brookvale  and  had  seen  the  other  girls 
married  and  settled  in  their  homes,  with  their 
children  growing  up  around  them.  She  had 
tried  for  years  to  get  a  husband,  but  finally,  at 
the  age  of  thirty-eight,  had  given  up  the  fight; 
and  instead  of  sharing  in  the  happiness  of  her 
lifelong  neighbors,  she  had  drifted  into  being  the 
neighborhood  gossip,  picking  flaws  in  everything 
and  searching  with  microscopic  eye  to  find  the 
failures  in  the  lives  of  those  around  her,  trying 
to  find  satisfaction  in  her  unmarried  state  by 
seeing  only  the  darker  side  of  the  matrimonial 
adventures  around  her.  If  a  man  came  home 
late  after  dining  well  but  not  wisely  with  his 

241 


242      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

companions,  be  sure  Sarah  Lee  heard  of  it.  She 
would  take  her  sewing  and  go  to  some  neighbor 
and  say  in  her  softly  purring  voice,  "Isn't  it  too 
bad  that  Mr.  Smith  neglects  his  wife  so  dread 
fully,  and  it  is  shocking  the  way  he  drinks.  Now 
the  other  night,  etc.,  etc.,"  until  her  garrulous 
tongue  would  make  a  great  crime  of  perhaps 
only  a  small  indiscretion.  Drusilla  had  been  a 
joy  to  her,  as  she  was  new  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  she  regaled  her  with  all  the  gossip,  much  to 
Drusilla's  disgust  and  discomfiture;  but  she  was 
too  kindly  to  be  rude  to  the  bitter-tongued 
woman,  who  was  the  only  one  of  her  neighbors 
who  "ran  in"  or  who  brought  their  sewing  and 
sat  down  for  a  "real  visit." 

One  morning  Drusilla  was  sitting  in  the  sun 
parlor,  looking  at  a  great  box  of  baby  clothing 
that  had  been  sent  her  from  the  city,  when  Miss 
Lee  came  in.  She  had  her  tatting  with  her  and 
Drusilla  saw  that  she  was  in  for  a  visitation. 
She  tried  to  interest  her  guest  in  the  wonders  of 
the  baby  frocks,  but  Miss  Lee  only  shook  her 
head  and  would  not  notice  them. 

"I  don't  care  for  children  nor  their  clothing, 
Miss  Doane,  and  I  can  never  see  how  you  care  to 
burden  yourself  with  all  those  waifs  at  your  time 
of  life.  Now  I,  if  I  had  your  money,  would 
enjoy  myself." 


"But  I  am  enjoying  myself,"  said  Drusilla. 
"Why  I  take  more  comfort  in  them  babies  than 
I've  ever  had  in  all  my  seventy  years." 

"But  they  are  such  a  care,  such  a  bother." 

"Bother,  my  aunt!"  said  Drusilla  emphatic 
ally.  "They  ain't  no  bother.  They  give  me 
something  to  think  about.  Xow,  look  at  these 
clothes.  I  been  all  mornin'  lookin'  at  'em  and 
sortin'  'em  out.  Look  at  that  petticoat.  See 
how  soft  and  warm  it  is.  I  wish  I'd  made  it 
myself.  I  can  sit  here  and  imagine  how  some 
mother'd  feel  makin'  a  petticoat  like  that  fer  her 
baby.  I'm  goin'  to  buy  a  lot  of  cloth  and  git 
some  patterns  and  let  the  mothers  make  'em 
themselves.  When  it's  a  little  warmer  they  can 
set  under  the  trees  and  sew  while  the  babies  is 
playin'  around  them." 

"But  the  mothers  you  have  here — will — do 
you  think  that  class — those  kind  of  mothers  will 
care  to  sew?" 

Drusilla  flushed  and  an  angry  gleam  came 
into  her  kindly  eyes. 

"Sew?  Why  shouldn't  they  sew,  and  what  do 
you  mean  by  that  class?  All  the  mothers  I  got 
here  seem  jest  like  any  other  mothers." 

"We  must  admit,"  went  on  the  refined, 
querulous  voice,  "that  they  are  not  the  usual 
mothers — with  husbands — " 


Drusilla's  eyes  distinctly  darkened,  and  the 
flush  deepened. 

''Never  mind  about  their  husbands.  We  don't 
need  'em  to  sew — and  a  mother's  a  mother,  and 
she  likes  to  make  things  fer  her  baby." 

Miss  Lee  noted  the  flush  and  changed  the  sub 
ject. 

"I  hear  you  are  going  to  take  some  Italians 
and  their  children  here  for  the  summer." 

Drusilla's  eyes  lighted  up,  and  the  angry 
gleam  fled  instantly. 

"Now,  how  did  you  hear  that?" 

"It's  all  over  the  neighborhood.     And — " 

"Is  it?  Then  I  suppose  I  might  as  well  let 
the  neighbors  git  it  direct.  Yes,  I  been  visitin' 
places  where  I've  traipsed  up  and  down  stairs 
till  I'm  most  knee  sprung,  but  I've  learnt  a  lot 
of  things,  and  sense  I've  seen  how  some  of  'em 
live,  I  couldn't  sleep  nights  unless  I  done  some- 
thin'  fer  'em ;  and  givin'  a  mother  and  her  babies 
two  weeks  in  the  country  is  the  least  I  kin  do. 
Why,  I  look  at  all  this  grass,  jest  made  fer  babies 
to  roll  on,  and  I  see  the  trees  that  ain't  doin' 
what  a  tree  should  do  unless  it  has  some  one 
under  it,  and  I  lay  awake  nights  to  plan  things ; 
and  Dr.  Eaton  don't  git  no  time  to  see  his  pa 
tients,  I  keep  him  so  busy.  Him  and  me's  been 
goin'  over  the  house  and  there's  twelve  spare 


bedrooms  goin'  to  waste  besides  the  settin'-rooms 
that's  jined  to  'em.  And  we  was  talkin'  about 
the  big  armor  room,  that  place  with  the  tin  men 
and  horses.  Now,  I  don't  care  much  fer  tin 
men,  although  John  moons  over  'em  a  lot,  but 
there's  a  lot  of  people  who  like  to  look  at  'em, 
and  don't  git  a  chance'  cause  they're  shut  up 
here  doin'  no  good  to  no  one.  Dr.  Eaton  says 
that  the  Metropolitan  Museum  in  the  city'd  be 
glad  to  have  'em  as  a  loan,  and  then  everybody 
who  likes  such  things  could  go  and  see  'em,  and 
I  can  make  the  room  into  a  big  playroom  or  day 
nursery,  as  folks  call  it." 

Miss  Lee  looked  up,  horrified. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  goin'  to 
spoil  this  beautiful  house  and  these  beautiful 
grounds?" 

"Spoil  'em?  How'll  it  spoil  'em?  They're 
goin'  to  waste  as  it  is." 

"Why,  having  that  class  of  women  in  your 
house,  and  the  children  on  the  lawns,  will  cer 
tainly  take  away  from  their  artistic  beauty." 

"Will  it?  Then  it'll  have  to  be  not  so  artistic 
and  more  useful.  Nothin'  ain't  beauty  unless 
it's  doin'  something  fer  somebody,  and  God 
didn't  intend  no  sixty  acres  of  His  land  to  be 
lyin'  here  jest  fer  me  and  a  lot  of  rich  people  to 
admire,  when  women  and  children  are  pantin' 


246      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

fer  air  in  hot  tenements.  And  as  fer  the  house, 
land  knows  it's  big  enough,  and  I  feel  like  a  lone 
pea  in  a  tin  can  shakin'  around  loose  in  it,  and 
I  won't  never  need  to  see  no  one  unless  I  want 
to.  But  I  want  to  see  'em,  I  want  to  see  life 
around  me,  and  life  that's  bein'  made  a  little 
happier  because  of  Drusilla  Doane.  What  do 
you  suppose  God  give  me  all  this  big  place  fer, 
and  all  the  money,  if  it  wasn't  to  use  fer  His 
people?" 

"What  shockin'  ideas  you  have,  Miss  Doane, 
to  bring  God  into  the  subject!  You  are  most 
sacrilegious,  dear  Miss  Doane." 

"Yes,  I  guess  I  am;  most  people  seem  to  be 
afraid  to  mention  Him." 

"But  the  neighbors  are  feeling  very  indignant 
that  you  are  turning  the  show  place  of  the  coun 
try  into  an  orphan  asylum  and  a  mother's  home." 

Drusilla  looked  up  quickly,  as  word  had  come 
to  her  of  her  neighbors'  disapproval. 

"I  don't  see  that  it's  none  of  their  concern," 
she  said. 

"But,  you  see,  it  lowers  the  value  of  their  prop 
erty." 

"Let  'em  move  away." 

"Oh,  but  they  can't." 

"Well,  let  'em  stay." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      247 

"But  it's  very  annoying  to  see  a  lot  of  dirty 
children." 

"They  won't  be  dirty  children,  and  the  neigh 
bors  don't  need  to  look  over  the  hedge  if  they 
don't  want  to.  It's  high  enough." 

"I  am  just  telling  you  what  they  say,  Miss 
Doane.  There  was  a  meeting  the  other  day  of 
the  people  of  Brookvale,  and  they  decided  to 
appoint  a  committee  to  wait  upon  you  and  ex 
press  their  disapproval  of  your  actions,  and  re 
quest  you  to  change  your  plans  in  some  way." 

Drusilla  looked  over  her  glasses. 

"You  don't  tell  me!"  she  ejaculated.  "When 
be  they  comin'?" 

"Mr.  Carrington,  the  chairman  of  the  Com 
mittee,  is  coming  to  see  you  to-night,  I  am  told." 

"Who's  he?" 

"He  lives  in  the  big  gray  house  near  the  river, 
and  he  feels  very  strongly  on  the  subject." 

Drusilla  said  with  asperity:  "Well,  he'll 
feel  stronger  when  he  leaves." 

Miss  Lee  felt  that  she  had  gone  far  enough  on 
that  subject,  so  she  changed  it. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Carrington!  They  feel  very  bad 
about  children  since  they  lost  their  little  boy 
about  a  year  ago." 

"How  did  they  lose  him?" 


248      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"He  died,  and  they  have  never  recovered  from 
the  shock." 

"If  they  lost  their  child,  I  should  think  they'd 
want  to  see  other  children  happy,  then.  They 
must  be  queer  people." 

"It  has  changed  them  a  great  deal,  as  sorrow 
often  does." 

"It  hasn't  changed  them  the  right  way,  as  true 
sorrow  does.  What've  they  done?" 

"Mrs.  Carrington — she  was  Elsie  Young  be 
fore  she  married  Robert  Carrington — is  a  very 
beautiful  woman,  and  she  was  wrapped  up  in  her 
boy.  But  since  his  death  she  has  given  herself 
wholly  to  society,  and  they  say — now  of  course 
I  don't  know  how  true  it  is,  but  they  say — that 
she  and  her  husband  have  grown  apart  since  the 
child  is  gone.  He  kept  them  together,  and  now 
• — well,  she  simply  lives  for  amusement.  And — 
now,  of  course  I  don't  say  it  is  true — but  I  do 
know  that  she  is  going  to  Europe  in  the  summer 
and  they  say — that  is  the  ladies  who  know  her 
well — that  it  means  a  separation.  She  is  going 
to  get  a  divorce  in  Paris." 

Drusilla  put  down  the  dress  in  her  hand. 

"You  don't  tell  me!  Just  because  she  lost 
her  baby!  Why  don't  she  have  more?  Lots  of 
people  have  lost  babies,  but  it  ain't  cause  for 


divorce.  It'd  ought  to  bring  'em  closer  to 
gether." 

"Yes,"  sighed  Miss  Lee;  "but  it  hasn't  in  this 
case.  They've  just  grown  apart.  They  are 
never  together.  She  goes  her  way  and  he  goes 
his,  and  their  paths  never  seem  to  meet.  It  is 
very  sad,  because  she  was  such  an  exceedingly 
fine  girl.  So  many  marriages  end  unhappily." 

Drusilla  sniffed. 

"I  guess  if  they  was  poor  people  and  had  to 
work  or  if  she  had  to  git  the  dinner  for  her  man 
and  wonder  if  he  liked  chicken  with  dumplings 
better'n  with  saleratus  biscuit,  she  wouldn't  find 
time  to  want  to  go  to  Paris.  The  trouble  with 
the  rich  women  around  here  is  that  they  are 
thinkin'  too  much  of  how  to  pass  the  time,  in 
stead  of  doin'  somethin'  for  their  men." 

"But  what  can  they  do?  They  all  have  serv 
ants  to  do  the  work  for  them.  You  can't  expect 
wromen  like  Mrs.  Carrington  to  cook."  And 
Miss  Lee  plainly  showed  what  she  thought  of  a 
a  woman  who  cooked. 

"No,  I  suppose  they  can't  cook;  but  a  man's  a 
man,  and  he  likes  to  feel  that  his  woman  is 
thinkin'  about  him  and  what  he'll  eat,  and  not 
leave  it  all  to  a  servant.  A  man's  like  a  baby: 
he  wants  a  lot  of  attention,  especially  about  his 


250      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

vittles.  Now  I  know  John  don't  like  some 
things  and  he  does  like  others,  and  I  see  he  gits 
'em;  and  I  know  he  likes  to  smoke  just  as  soon 
as  he's  done  eatin',  and  I  see  that  his  pipe  and 
tobacco  is  put  where  he  can  reach  it  when  he's 
havin'  his  coffee.  It  ain't  much,  but  it  tells  him 
I'm  thinkin'  about  his  comfort,  and  men  like 
their  comfort  in  their  own  way." 

Miss  Lee  was  quiet  a  few  moments. 

"You — you  are  speaking  of — of — this  old 
gentleman  who  is  living  here?" 

Drusilla  looked  up  suddenly. 

"John  ain't  so  old.  He's  only  two  years 
older'n  me,  and  I  don't  call  myself  old  yet — un 
less  it's  to  git  me  out  of  doin'  somethin'  that  I 
don't  like  to  do,  like  makin'  calls." 

"Is — is  Mr.  Brierly  a  relation  of  yours?" 

"No,  John  ain't  no  relation;  he's  just  a 
friend." 

"Is  he — is  he  making  you  a  long  visit?" 

"I  hope  so.  He's  goin'  to  live  here  always 
with  me  if  I  can  make  him." 

Again  Miss  Lee  tatted  industriously.  Then 
she  looked  up  with  what  she  tried  to  make  a  most 
friendly  smile. 

"Now  you  know,  Miss  Doane,  I  never  gossip, 
but  I  am  a  friend  of  yours  and  I  think  you  ought 
to  be  told.  The  neighbors  think  it  queer  that 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       251 

you  have  this  man  live  here,  who  is  no  relative  of 
yours." 

"How's  it  queer?" 

"Well,  it's  unconventional,  to  say  the  least." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  unconventional?" 

"I  don't  know  how  I  can  say  it  so  that  you 
will  understand.  Not  quite  proper,  you  know." 

Drusilla  sat  back  in  her  chair.  A  bright  spot 
appeared  on  her  faded  cheek  and  there  was  an 
ominous  light  in  her  eyes. 

"So  my  neighbors  think  I'm  improper!  Well, 
that's  news  and  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I've  always 
wanted  to  do  something  unconventional,  as  you 
call  it,  but  I  ain't  never  had  no  chance.  I  always 
had  to  do  what  was  expected  of  me.  I  had  to 
live  a  life  just  about  as  broad  as  a  needle,  just 
because  I  had  to  make  my  livin'  and  couldn't  af 
ford  to  do  nothin'  that'd  be  different  from  what 
other  folks  done.  But  now  I  got  a  chance,  and 
I'm  glad  I  ain't  too  old  yet  to  shock  my  neigh 
bors.  I'd  keep  John  now  if  I  had  to  tie  him  in 
his  chair." 

Miss  Lee  saw  the  light  in  the  eyes,  and  ha 
stened  to  say: 

"Now,  please,  dear  Miss  Doane,  don't  think 
that  I  am  blaming  you.  I  understand  perfectly 
— perfectly.  I  just  feel  that  you  ought  to  know 
what  is  being  said." 


252      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"You're  real  kind,  Miss  Lee.  People  won't 
miss  what's  bein'  said  about  'em  if  you  don't  git 
paralyzed  in  your  tongue." 

Miss  Lee  flushed  and  gathered  her  threads  to 
gether. 

"Well,  my  intentions  are  always  of  the  best,  I 
assure  you.  I  must  be  going.  I  see  my  maid 
talking  to  one  of  your  gardeners.  It  must  be 
stopped." 

"Yes,  I'd  stop  it  if  I  was  you.  She  might  be 
enjoyin'  herself.  Good-by.  And  when  you 
stop  at  your  next  place,  tell  'em  that  I'm  waitin' 
for  that  Committee,  and  that  I'm  enjoyin'  John 
Brierly's  visit,  and  that  he's  goin'  to  live  here, 
and  so's  my  babies,  and  that  they  don't  need  to 
know  what's  goin'  on  in  my  grounds  if  they  don't 
stretch  their  necks  to  see  over  the  walls  when 
they  ride  by.  Good-by." 

Drusilla  watched  the  woman  as  she  went  down 
the  road  and  as  she  disappeared  she  heaved  a 
sigh. 

"Well,  the  Lord  sendeth  and  the  Lord  tak- 
eth  away.  Blessed — I  guess  I'll  go  see  John." 

She  went  up  to  the  small  library  where  she 
knew  she  would  find  him  poring  over  a  book. 

John  looked  up  as  she  entered  the  room,  and 
Drusilla  sat  down  in  a  chair  and  looked  into  the 
fire,  as  if  seeing  pictures  there.  John  went  on 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      253 

with  his  reading,  but  finally,  seeing  Drusilla 
looking  at  him  intently,  he  spoke. 

"What  is  it,  Drusilla?" 

Drusilla  said  softly:  "John,  do  you  remem 
ber  when  we  used  to  walk  down  Willow  Lane  in 
the  moonlight,  and  one  night  some  of  the  neigh 
bors  saw  your  arm  around  me  and  they  went  to 
mother  and  said  we  was  carryin'  on  and  it  ought 
to  be  put  a  stop  to?  Well,  the  neighbors  say 
we  are  carryin'  on  again." 

John  closed  the  book  in  his  hand. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Drusilla?" 

"The  neighbors  say  we  are  carryin'  on.  They 
think  that  because  you  ain't  a  relation  that's  it's 
unconventional,  them's  her  words,  unconven 
tional  that  you  stay  here." 

A  pained  look  came  into  kindly  John's  eyes. 

"Why,  Drusilla,  I  hadn't  thought  of  that. 
Perhaps  I'd  better  go." 

Drusilla  reached  over  and  patted  his  hand. 

"Just  you  set  right  still,  John  Brierly,  and 
don't  get  excited.  I  ain't  felt  so  young  sence 
mother  scolded  me  for  walkin'  out  with  you." 
She  laughed  a  little  happy  laugh.  "Why,  it 
takes  me  back  fifty  years!" 

"Oh,  Drusilla,"  murmured  John.  "If  it 
makes  you  talked  about — ' 

"Makes  me  talked  about!     Why,  who'd   'a' 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

thought  when  Mis'  Fisher  come  to  mother  when 
we  was  young  and  said  that  our  carryin's  on  was 
disgraceful,  that  in  fifty  years  another  Mis' 
Fisher-kind  would  say  the  same  thing.  Oh, 
John,  why  don't  you  laugh?" 

"I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  about,  Dru- 
silla." 

"You  never  had  a  sense  of  humor,  John;  but 
you  was  born  without  it.  But,  I  tell  you,  it 
makes  me  young  again.  Why,  it  makes  a 
woman  old  to  feel  she  can  do  just  as  she  pleases 
and  not  git  talked  about;  and  I  feel  I  ain't  got 
one  foot  in  the  grave  to  know  that  I  can  still  be 
carryin'  on —  Oh,  I  guess,  I'll  go  and  put  on 
my  new  dress  that's  just  come  home.  I  ain't 
seventy — I'm  still  a  girl!" 

And,  chuckling  to  herself,  she  went  out  of  the 
room,  followed  by  John's  wondering  eyes.  He 
sat  quietly  a  moment,  then  went  back  to  his  book, 
feeling  that  woman's  reasoning  was  far  beyond 
his  ken. 

That  night,  as  she  and  John  were  sitting  down 
to  their  seven  o'clock  dinner,  a  frightened  nurse 
came  running  in. 

"Oh,  Miss  Doane,"  she  said,  "one  of  the  babies 
is  very  sick.  He  don't  seem  able  to  breathe." 

Drusilla  put  down  her  napkin  and  started  im- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       255 

mediately  for  the  nursery,  where  she  found  one 
of  the  younger  babies  struggling  for  its  breath, 
evidently  in  the  earlier  stages  of  pneumonia. 
She  looked  at  it  a  moment,  then  said : 

"Now  you  git  one  of  the  babies'  bathtubs  filled 
with  hot  water  and  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute. 
Have  some  one  telephone  for  Dr.  Eaton." 

She  hurried  to  her  rooms  and  put  on  a  big 
white  apron,  then  to  the  linen  closet  and  got  a 
piece  of  white  flannel,  and  was  just  starting  for 
the  nursery  again,  when  a  card  was  brought  her. 
She  read  on  it:  James  Carting  ton. 

"He's  part  of  the  Committee,"  she  said;  and 
as  she  passed  through  the  hall  she  went  up  to  him, 

"You're  Mr.  Carrington,"  she  began  abruptly. 

"I'm  real  glad  to  see  you.  I  know  what  you 
come  for,  but  I  ain't  got  time  to  talk  now.  You 
come  with  me  and  we'll  talk  afterwards." 

And  before  the  chairman  of  the  Committee 
could  say  a  word  he  was  hurried  upstairs  and 
into  a  small  room,  where  a  couple  of  frightened 
nurses  were  looking  at  a  baby  whose  flushed  face 
and  labored  breathing  showed  that  he  was  very 
ill.  Drusilla  went  to  the  small  bathtub  that  was 
placed  on  the  floor. 

"Come  here,  Mr.  Carrington,"  she  said; 
"you're  stronger  than  I  am.  Lift  this  up  on 
them  two  chairs.  So — that's  right.  Now  put 


this  thermometer  in  the  water  and  see  if  it's  100 
degrees.  I  can't  see  to  read  it.  Is  it  right? 
Now — we'll  take  the  baby — take  off  your  coat 
and  hat — yes,  you'd  better  take  off  that  coat  too" 
—seeing  that  the  man  was  in  evening  dress — 
"and  turn  up  your  sleeves — you'll  git  your  cuffs 
wet.  Now  take  off  the  baby's  clothes,  Mary. 
So — poor  little  thing! — take  'em  all  off,  shirt  and 
all,  and  we'll  put  him  in  this  piece  of  flannel. 
Now  you  hold  him  like  this,  Mr.  Carrington. 
Hold  him  in  the  hot  water.  There — jest  so's 
his  face  is  out — don't  let  him  slip!  So — now  he's 
breathin'  better  already.  Don't  let  the  water 
git  cold,  Mary.  Put  a  little  more  hot  water  in— 
there — that's  right.  Yes,  he's  gittin'  red,  Mr. 
Carrington,  but  he  wants  to  git  red.  See,  he's 
breathin'  better.  Does  your  arm  ache?  Hold 
him  a  little  longer;  I'm  goin'  to  git  some  goose 
grease  that  I  brought  along  with  me  from  the 
home.  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute.  Don't  let  the 
water  git  cool." 

She  returned  in  a  few  moments  with  a  bottle 
in  her  hand,  and  handed  it  to  one  of  the  nurses. 

"Warm  it,  put  it  in  hot  water  till  it  runs. 
Now—" 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  a  woman  stood 
in  the  doorway,  an  angry  look  on  her  pretty, 
petulant  face.  She  was  covered  with  a  big  white 


evening  wrap,  and  was  most  impatient.  She 
looked  at  the  scene  before  her  without  compre 
hending  it,  and  her  voice  said  angrily: 

"Robert,  we  will  be  late  for  the  opera !  What 
do  you  mean  by — " 

Drusilla  looked  from  the  baby  to  the  woman 
in  the  doorway. 

"Come  right  in,  Mis'  Carrington.  I'm  glad 
you  come.  Take  off  your  coat.  Yes,  we  need 
you.  Lay  it  over  there  on  the  bed." 

And  before  the  astonished  woman  knew  what 
she  was  doing  her  wrap  was  laid  upon  a  small 
white  bed  and  she  was  standing  in  her  elaborate 
evening  gown  looking  down  at  a  very  red  baby 
being  held  in  a  hot  bath  by  the  hands  of  her  hus 
band. 

"Now,  Mis'  Carrington,  lay  that  other  piece 
of  flannel  on  the  bed,  and  we'll  put  the  baby  in 
it.  I  think  he's  boiled  most  of  his  cold  out.  So 
• — that's  right,  roll  him  out — and  we'll  rub  him 
with  the  grease.  You  do  it,  Mis'  Carrington; 
your  hands  is  younger  and  not  so  stiff  as  mine. 
Put  lots  on  his  chest  and  around  his  throat.  And 
turn  him  over  on  his  back,  Mr.  Carrington.  Put 
a  lot  on  his  back.  So — that's  right.  Rub  it  in 
well.  And  now  we'll  put  him  in  the  bed. 
There,  poor  little  mite,  he  breathes  better  now, 
don't  he?"  They  stood  around  the  bed,  look- 


258      DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION 

ing  down  at  the  child,  whose  regular  breathing 
showed  that  he  had  stopped  fighting  for  his 
breath  and  the  battle  was  won.  Soon  his  eyes, 
which  had  been  staring  so  pitifully  closed,  and 
with  a  little  sigh  the  baby  slept. 

Drusilla  turned  to  say  something,  to  speak  a 
few  words  of  thanks  for  their  help;  but  she 
stopped  at  the  sight  of  the  two  people  standing 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  little  bed.  The  man 
with  his  coat  off,  his  white  waistcoat  and  shirt 
gleaming  in  the  light,  the  woman  opposite  him 
clothed  in  her  decolette  gown,  with  jewels  glis 
tening  in  her  hair  and  on  her  neck.  But  she  did 
not  notice  the  dress,  when  she  saw  the  light  in 
the  woman's  eyes  as  they  rested  on  the  man. 
They  looked  into  each  other's  faces  for  a  full 
moment ;  then  the  woman  reached  over  her  hand, 
and  in  a  low,  broken  voice  said,  "Robert,  is  it  too 
late?  Shall  we  try  again?"  The  man's  quiver 
ing  lips  could  say  nothing,  but  the  hand  that 
clasped  the  one  that  came  to  him  so  timidly  was 
answer  enough. 

The  doctor  entered  at  that  moment  and  the 
baby  was  turned  over  to  him,  while  Drusilla's 
guests  put  on  their  wraps  and  followed  her  down 
stairs.  At  the  door  of  her  sitting-room  Drusilla 
turned  to  them. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       259 

" Won't  you  come  in?  You  wished  to  see  me 
about — " 

Mr.  Carrington  said  hastily : 

"No ;  we  will  let  the  matter  wait.  We  are  on 
our  way  to  the  opera — " 

"No,  Miss  Doane,"  the  wife  interrupted;  "we 
'were  on  our  way  to  the  opera,  but  now — we're 
going  home,  Robert."  Turning  to  the  man  be 
side  her  she  repeated:  "We're  going  home, 
Robert.  Do  you  understand,  we're  going 
home!" 

Brasilia  stood  in  the  hall  until  the  motor 
started. 

"The  Bible  says  a  lot  of  things  that's  true," 
she  murmured  to  herself,  "and  one  of  'em  is,  'A 
little  child  shall  lead  'em.'  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  next  morning  Drusilla  was  at  break 
fast  when  she  heard  the  chug-chug  of  a 
motor.  Mrs.  Carrington's  card  was  brought  in; 
but  before  she  could  say  to  William  that  she 
would  see  her  visitor,  the  happy  laughing  face  of 
Mrs.  Carrington  looked  in  at  the  door. 

"May  I  come  in?  I  am  sure  you  will  see 
me." 

Drusilla  rose  with  a  smile  on  her  sweet  old 
face,  and  extended  her  hand. 

"Yes,  do.  You're  just  in  time  to  have  a  cup 
of  good  coffee  with  me." 

"Am  I  so  early?  I  motored  down  with  Robert 
this  morning  and  felt  that  I  must  stop  and  see 
you  on  the  way  home." 

"No,  you're  not  early  at  all;  but  I'm  gettin' 
lazy  in  my  old  age.  I  git  up  early  in  the  mornin' 
and  have  some  coffee  and  then  go  and  see  all  my 
babies.  I  like  to  see  'em  git  their  bath,  and 
then  I  help  dress  'em.  Then  I  come  back  and 
have  my  real  breakfast.  Now,  you  set  right 
there,  so's  the  sun'll  shine  on  you,  and  William'll 
git  another  cup  and  plate." 

260 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       261 

"But  I  have  had  my  breakfast." 

"Pshaw,  one  can  always  drink  coffee  in  the 
mornin'.  And  you've  been  clear  down  town." 

Mrs.  Carrington  settled  herself  comfortably 
in  her  chair,  threw  back  her  coat,  and  smiled 
across  at  Drusilla. 

"Yes,  I've  taken  Robert  down  town  the  first 
time  for  more  than  a  year.  Oh,  it  seemed  just 
like  old  times  to  take  him  to  his  office  again." 

Drusilla  looked  at  her  smilingly. 

''Well,  it  seems  to  have  made  you  pert- 
lookin'  this  mornin'.  Your  face  is  a-shinin'. 
Do  you  take  one  lump  or  two?  Cream?  Is  that 
the  right  color?  I'm  particular  about  the  color 
of  my  coffee." 

"Yes,  that's  just  right.  It  smells  delicious," 
said  Mrs.  Carrington,  taking  the  cup.  "No,  I 
won't  have  anything  to  eat.  Well — I  don't 
know  whether  I  can  resist  those  hot  rolls.  Just 
a  half  of  one,  then.  Is  that  honey?  I  ought  not 
to  eat  sweets — I  know  my  fate  if  I  do;  but  I 
can't  resist  hot  rolls  and  honey." 

She  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she 
looked  up  at  Drusilla  and  said,  half  hesitatingly, 
"I  presume  you  are  wondering  why  I  have  come 
to  make  this  early  morning  visit,  Miss  Doane?" 

"No;  I  ain't  wonderin'  at  all.  I'm  just  glad 
you  come." 


262      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Well,"  and  Mrs.  Carrington  laughed  happily, 
"I'm  so  happy  I  just  had  to  talk  to  some  one. 
You  know  I  have  not  been  to  see  you  before,  be 
cause  I  expected  to  go  to  France  next  month  for 
a — for  a — for  rather  an  extended  trip.  And  I 
thought  there  was  no  use  in  calling  when  I  was1 
going  away  so  soon." 

"Yes ;  I  heard  you  was  goin'  away,"  Drusilla 
said. 

.Mrs.  Carrington  looked  up  quickly. 

'"Oh,  did  you?  I  didn't  know  that  people 
knew  it.  Who  told  you?" 

"The  circulatin'  family  story-paper,"  laughed 
Drusilla,  "Miss  Lee." 

Mrs.  Carrington  frowned  for  a  moment;  then 
she  laughed. 

"Oh,  well,  if  Sarah  knows  it,  it  is  no  secret 
in  Brookvale.  But  I  am  not  going  away,  so  her 
story  will  have  to  be  revised.  What  else  did  she 
say,  Miss  Doane?" 

"Well — I  jest  can't  remember  all  she  said — 
but — you  said  jest  now  you  was  happy.  Miss 
Lee'll  lose  all  interest  in  you  now.  There's 
nothin'  so  uninteresting  to  old  maids  as  their 
married  friends  when  they're  happy." 

"I  might  just  as  well  tell  you  myself,  and  it's 
all  past  now  and  I  can  talk  without  breaking  my 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      263 

heart.  Did  Sarah  tell  you  that  we  lost  our  little 
boy  about  a  year  ago?" 

"Yes ;  she  told  me,  and  I'm  sorry  for  you.  It 
must  be  a  sad  thing  to  lose  a  baby." 

"It  nearly  killed  me,  and — and — I  began  to 
think  about  myself  too  much — I  can  see  that 
now.  I  began  to  feel  that  Robert  did  not  under 
stand  me,  that  he  did  not  miss  our  boy  nor  care 
as  much  as  I  did — that  he  was  hard  and  occupied 
himself  too  much  with  business  and  neglected  me 
—and — and — : 

"I  understand,"  said  Drusilla.  "You  didn't 
know  that  to  a  man  work  is  the  whole  dinner, 
and  love  the  pie  that  he  has  to  finish  it  off  and 
make  the  dinner  perfect  for  him.  Perhaps  you 
didn't  understand  him  no  more  than  he  did  you?" 

"Perhaps  that's  so,  but  he  didn't  seem  to  share 
my  trouble — ' 

"Now,  my  dear,"  said  Drusilla,  reaching  over 
and  softly  touching  the  pretty  hand  that  was  ly 
ing  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  "it  ain't  so  much  the 
troubles  and  sorrows  they  share,  but  the  bridge 
parties  and  dances  that  they  don't  share  that 
makes  most  of  the  troubles  between  husbands 
and  wives." 

"Yes;  perhaps  that's  so.  I  did  get  to  caring 
too  much  for  dancing  and  society,  and  went 


264      DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

out  too  much  without  Robert.     I  was  bored — " 

"That's  the  kind  of  tired  feelin'  women  git 
who  ain't  got  nothin'  to  do." 

"Oh,  but  I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do.  I  be 
long  to  a  great  many  clubs  and  take  an  active 
interest  in  charities,  and  go  to  so  many  committee 
meetings- — they  can't  say  that  I  have  had  noth 
ing  to  do." 

"But  that  ain't  the  right  kind  of  doin'.  Let 
people  like  Sarah  Lee  sew  shirts  for  the  heathen 
and  go  to  the  clubs ;  and  as  for  charity,  I  seen  a 
lot  of  charity  done  by  women  who  go  to  church 
and  then  turn  their  hired  girls  out  of  doors  if 
they  git  in  trouble.  That  ain't  what  you  want, 
women  with  husbands  and  babies — " 

"But  I  have  no  baby—" 

"But  you  got  a  husband.  Have  babies,  just 
swathes  of  'em.  You  can  afford  'em.  It's 
women  like  you  that  ought  to  have  big  families. 
Don't  your  husband  like  babies?" 

"Yes,  he  adores  them,  but — 

"Of  course  he  does!  Ain't  he  a  man?  Men 
just  love  babies  when  they're  their  own.  It  feeds 
their  vanity  to  show  the  world  how  they're  im- 
provin'  the  human  race.  Now  look  here,  Mis' 
Carrington,  let  an  old  woman  talk.  I'm  old  and 
I  got  wrinkles  in  my  face  but  there  ain't  none  in 
my  heart,  and  the  only  way  to  keep  'em  out  of 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      265 

your  heart  is  just  to  fill  it  to  bustin'  with  love. 
Keep  the  skin  tight ;  don't  let  it  git  slack.  Why, 
you'll  find  you  been  goin'  without  love  and  it's 
like  eatin'  without  an  appetite.  It's  fillin'  your 
life  with  somethin'  that  don't  satisfy.  Even  if 
you  feel  you  ain't  got  the  best  man  in  the  world, 
make  the  best  of  the  one  you  got,  and,  just  'cause 
he's  yourn,  you'll  believe  after  a  while  you  drew 
the  only  sweet  orange  in  the  grove  and  all  the 
rest  was  sour.  We  all  know  that  marriage  is  like 
the  weather,  mighty  uncertain,  but  that  ain't  no 
reason  for  you  to  live  in  the  cyclone  cellar  ex 
pecting  the  tornado  to  come.  Set  in  the  sun 
parlor  and  you'll  git  more  enjoyment." 

"But—" 

"Now,  let  me  talk.  I  like  to  talk,  and  when 
I  git  on  the  subject  of  love,  though  I  ain't  had 
much  of  it  in  my  life  except  what  I  give  myself, 
I  know  what  it  is,  and  I  learnt  that  you  mustn't 
pick  it  to  pieces,  any  mor'n  you'd  pick  that  rose 
beside  you  to  pieces  and  expect  to  have  it  keep  its 
color  and  its  smell.  If  you  do  that  there  ain't 
nothin'  left  in  your  hands  but  dead  leaves.  And, 
dear,  don't  look  at  it  through  a  microscope;  it'll 
make  the  little  things  look  too  big.  Quarrel 
once  in  a  while  if  you  must,  but  don't  criticize  his 
kind  of  love.  A  person's  love  is  his  own  kind, 
same  as  his  nose — " 


266      DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION 

"Oh,  we  never  quarrel.  Robert  is  a  perfect 
gentleman." 

"Now  that's  too  bad.  Perhaps  if  he  wasn't 
such  a  gentleman,  instead  of  goin'  to  his  club 
when  he  was  mad,  he'd  turn  in  and  you'd  have  a 
real  old-fashioned  row,  just  like  common  people, 
and  when  the  storm  was  passed  you'd  have  a 
chance  to  kiss  and  make  up.  Don't  be  too  much 
of  a  lady,  just  be  human  and  act  like  people, 
and  things'll  come  out  better.  It's  these  awful 
polite  people  who  grate  on  one,  especially  when 
you're  mad!" 

"I  know  I  am  not  a  good  wife — I  wish  I  were 
better — but  my  temperament — " 

"Don't  say  it!  I  can't  abide  that  word.  It's 
only  rich  women  who  have  temperament ;  in  poor 
women  it's  just  a  nasty  disposition.  But,  my 
dear,  you  are  good  enough.  Don't  try  to  be  an 
angel — you'd  bore  your  Robert  to  death.  He'd 
rather  see  you  with  a  pretty  hat  than  a  halo  any 
day;  and  I  know  your  kind,  Mis'  Carrington. 
You'll  go  into  fits  and  have  to  be  put  to  bed  if 
your  dress  don't  fit,  but  if  your  Robert  lost  his 
money,  you'd  give  him  your  diamonds  to  sell  so's 
to  start  him  again — and  I'm  sure  he  knows  it 
too." 

Mrs.  Carrington  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments. 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A   MILLION       267 

Then  she  looked  up  with  the  tears  glistening  on 
her  pretty  lashes. 

"Oh,  Miss  Doane,  you  do  make  me  feel  that 
we  are  going  to  be  happy.  I  am  going  to  un 
derstand  Robert  better  and  he  will  understand 
me—" 

"Don't  worry  about  him  understanding  you. 
Don't  think  about  your  inside  feelin's;  just  talk 
it  all  out  with  him.  If  he  don't  understand  what 
you're  thinkin',  shake  him  and  tell  him  he  is 
stupid,  and  he'll  laugh  and  you'll  laugh — and 
then  you'll  kiss  each  other — and  then,  where  are 
you?" 

Mrs.  Carrington  again  was  quiet.  Drusilla 
watched  her  for  a  moment;  then  she  rose  and 
came  over  to  her  chair  and,  bending  down,  put 
her  arms  around  the  young  shoulders. 

"Dear,  jest  do  this — so  fill  your  heart  with 
sweetness  that  there  won't  be  room  for  the  mem 
ory  of  any  wrong." 

Mrs.  Carrington  reached  up  her  hands  and 
drew  the  kindly  old  face  to  hers  and  kissed  the 
lips;  and  the  tears  that  had  been  in  her  eyes 
rolled  unheeded  down  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  Miss  Doane,  you  are  so  good!  I  love 
you.  We  are  going  to  begin  all  over  again." 

"That's  right,  dear.     Go  to  lookin'  for  the  lost 


268       DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

heart's  desire  and  if  you  look  in  the  right  place 
you'll  find  it." 

As  Drusilla  was  standing  by  the  chair  James 
entered,  and,  seeing  Mrs.  Carrington,  started  to 
leave  the  room.  Drusilla  turned. 

"What  is  it,  James?" 

"It's  no  moment  now,  Miss  Doane,  the  matter 
can  wait." 

"Well,  but  what  is  it?  Does  some  one  want  to 
see  me?" 

"Yes;  the  laundry  man.  I  took  the  liberty 
of  telling  him  that  you  might  see  him — 

"Is  he  in  trouble,  James?" 

"Yes,"  hesitatingly;  "and  as  I  have  known 
him  for  a  great  many  years  and  know  he  is  pretty 
straight  and  honest,  I — as  I  said,  ma'am — took 
the  liberty  of  telling  him  you  might  see  him,  as 
you  are  so  kind  to  so  many  that  come  here  for 
help." 

"Ssh — ssh — James;  you  mustn't  talk  about  it. 
Tell  him  to  come  up." 

Mrs.  Carrington  rose  to  go. 

"No,  don't  go,"  begged  Drusilla.  "You 
know,"  looking  around  the  room,  "I'm  just  like 
a  girl  that's  afraid  of  gettin'  found  out.  I  see 
a  lot  of  people  that  I  don't  let  Mr.  Thornton 
know  about.  He  tried  to  keep  me  from  seein' 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A   MILLION       269 

any  one  who  comes  here  in  trouble,  but  I  get 
around  him.  I  see  every  one  who  comes. 
James  has  his  orders  from  Mr.  Thornton  to  keep 
'em  out,  and  he  has  his  orders  from  me  to  let  'em 
in,  and  he's  more  afeered  of  me  than  he  is  of 
Mr.  Thornton." 

"But,  my  dear  Miss  Doane,  I  should  think  you 
would  be  worried  to  death." 

"No,  it  keeps  me  alive.  I  got  a  chance  to  hear 
people's  troubles  and  understand  what  they're 
fighting  against,  and  I'm  seein'  life  and  gettin' 
a  chance  to  help  people  in  my  own  way." 

"But  don't  they  impose  upon  you?  Aren't 
lots  of  the  people  dishonest?" 

"Well,  I  don't  do  nothin'  sudden.  I  hear  'em 
talk  and  then  I  git  Dr.  Eaton  to  find  out  if  it's 
true;  and  he's  a  clever  young  man,  Mis'  Carring- 
ton — they're  pretty  sharp  to  git  around  him. 
We  call  it  the  Doane  Eaton  Associated  Charities. 
But" — laughing — "I'm  awful  selfish  in  it.  I  like 
people,  and  I  like  to  be  in  their  lives,  and  if  I 
done  what  Mr.  Thornton  wanted  me  to  do,  I'd 
set  here  and  die  of  dry  rot." 

James  entered  then,  followed  by  a  little  man 
who  bowed  awkwardly  to  Miss  Doane. 

"This  is  Mr.  Henderson,  Miss  Doane,"  James 
said. 


270      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

Dmsilla  looked  at  him  critically. 

"Set  down,  Mr.  Henderson.  James  tells  me 
that  you  are  in  trouble." 

"Yes,  Miss  Doane.  I  hardly  know  which  way 
to  turn.  Mr.  Hawkins  told  me  you  might  be 
good  enough  to  help  me." 

"What  is  it  you  want?  You  are  the  laundry 
man,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes;  I  have  done  the  outside  wrork  for  the 
place  here  for  twelve  years,  and" — turning  to 
Mrs.  Carrington — "I  think  Mrs.  Carrington  will 
remember  me.  I  work  for  her  and  worked  for 
her  mother  before  her." 

"Certainly  I  know  you,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said 
Mrs.  Carrington.  "I  remember  I  used  to  coax 
you  for  a  ride  in  your  wagon  when  I  was  a  little 
girl." 

The  man  smiled. 

"Yes,  I've  given  all  the  children  in  Brookvale 
a  ride  some  time  or  other." 

"Now  that  we  know  who  you  are,"  said  Dru- 
silla,  "jest  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is." 

"It's  this  way,  Miss  Doane.  The  last  year 
business  has  been  bad  and  I  have  had  to  buy  new 
machinery,  and  I  put  a  mortgage  on  the  place  to 
pay  for  the  machines,  and  then  my  wife  was  sick 
for  most  eight  months  and  the  doctor's  bills  and 
the  nurses  eat  up  all  my  ready  money,  and  I  find 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       271 

I'm  in  a  corner  and  can't  pay  the  interest  on  the 
mortgage,  and  can't  get  good  help,  because  I 
can't  pay  the  wages.  I'm  afraid  I  will  lose  my 
business." 

"Is  it  a  good  business?" 

"Yes.  It's  always  been  able  to  give  me  a 
good  livin',  nothin'  more,  but  it's  all  I  got,  and  I 
don't  know  nothin'  else  to  do.  If  I  lose  it  I'll 
have  to  go  into  some  one  else's  laundry,  and  it's 
hard  after  fifteen  years — "  He  looked  down 
with  a  catch  in  his  voice. 

"How  much  will  it  take  to  put  you  on  your 
feet?" 

"If  I  could  get  eight  hundred  dollars  it  would 
pay  up  the  debts  that's  pressin'  me  and  would 
give  me  a  start." 

"Can't  you  borrow  at  the  bank?" 

"No,  because  I've  no  security.  The  place  is 
mortgaged  all  it  can  stand." 

"Well,  now  you  give  your  name  and  address 
to  James,  and  I'll  talk  it  over  with  Dr.  Eaton, 
and  we'll  see  what  can  be  done.  You  under 
stand  we  ain't  givin'  you  the  money,  even  if  we 
find  out  you're  all  right.  We'll  lend  to  you,  and 
Dr.  Eaton  asks  interest  the  same  as  at  the  bank, 
but  we  take  your  word  for  security.  You  un 
derstand,  we're  a  lending  on  your  reputation, 
and  what  you  stand  for  in  your  community." 


272      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"I  understand,  ma'am,  and  I'm  willin'  to  stand 
on  my  reputation  in  the  neighborhood." 

"Well,"  as  he  rose  to  go,  "Dr.  Eaton'll  come 
and  talk  it  over  with  you,  and  we'll  see.  How's 
your  wife  now?" 

"She  is  much  better." 

"Is  she  in  bed?" 

"Yes ;  she  only  sets  up  a  couple  of  hours  a  day." 

"Pshaw,  that's  too  bad!  Wait  till  I  see 
James." 

She  rang  the  bell  and  James  appeared. 

"James,  fix  a  basket  of  things  to  eat  and  send 
it  home  with  Mr.  Henderson.  Perhaps  a  change 
of  cookin'll  make  her  eat  better.  A  sick  person 
gits  awful  tired  of  the  same  kind  of  vittles." 

When  the  man  left  with  a  new  look  of  hope 
on  his  face  Drusilla  turned  to  Mrs.  Carrington. 

"Xow,  Mis'  Carrington,  them's  the  kind  of 
people  that  need  help.  You  ain't  no  idee  how 
many  men  in  this  city  have  got  little  businesses 
that's  jest  makin'  them  a  livin'  but  nothin'  over 
for  a  rainy  day,  and  when  the  day  comes  they've 
nothin'  to  fall  back  on.  And  if  they  could  tide 
themselves  over  the  bad  times,  whether  it's  sick 
ness  or  bad  business,  they'd  be  all  right.  That's 
just  like  the  truck  gardener  down  on  the  Ful- 
ham  Lane.  Ain't  you  seen  his  place?  The  hail 


broke  all  his  glass  cases,  and  he  couldn't  buy 
new  and  he  most  lost  his  little  place,  and  if  he 
hadn't  'a'  been  helped  he'd  'a'  had  to  git  out." 

"Did  you  help  him?" 

Drusilla  looked  rather  shamefaced. 

"Now,  don't  you  whisper  it  to  a  soul.  I'm  so 
feered  that  Mr.  Thornton'll  find  it  out  that  I'm 
scared  to  hear  a  door  slam  for  fear  he's  heard 
somethin'  and  comin'  to  talk  to  me.  I  didn't  do 
nothin'  for  him  as  he  knows  on,  but  Dr.  Eaton 
went  his  security  at  the  bank  so's  he  could  bor 
row,  and  he'll  be  able  to  pay  back  in  a  couple  of 
years." 

Mrs.  Carrington  laughed. 

"Oh,  you  are  a  dear!"  she  exclaimed. 

"No,  that's  jest  what  I  can't  make  Dr.  Eaton 
see  either,  that  I'm  selfish  in  it  all.  I  like  to  talk 
to  people,  I  like  to  know  about  'em.  I've  al 
ways  set  outside  the  fence  before  and  peeked  into 
the  ball  game,  now  I  kin  set  in  the  front  row  and 
sometimes  catch  a  ball  that  comes  my  way.  You 
know,  Mis'  Carrington,  I  set  up  nights  won- 
derin'  how  I  kin  leave  my  million  dollars  so's 
it'll  do  some  good  and  not  be  fooled  away.  I 
pester  Dr.  Eaton  to  death  to  find  a  way,  and  he 
thinks  he's  got  some  kind  of  a  poor  man's  bank 
figgered  out.  He's  brought  up  some  men  and 


274      DRUSILLA    WITH    A   MILLION 

we've  talked  ourselves  hoarse  trying  to  figger 
out  a  charity  that  ain't  a  charity.  By  the  way, 
what  is  your  husband?" 

"He  is  a  banker." 

"Xow,  that's  jest  the  thing.  Bring  him  over 
some  night  and  we'll  git  'em  all  together  and  have 
a  real  talk  about  it  all.  Tell  him  what  I'm  tryin' 
to  do.  No — I'll  send  Dr.  Eaton  to  talk  with 
him.  I  like  your  husband,  Mis'  Carrington.  A 
man  that  can  hold  a  sick  baby  so  tender  in  a  pan 
of  hot  water  has  got  heart;  and  what  we  want 
in  this  is  heart  as  well  as  brains  and  money." 

Mrs.  Carrington  rose  to  go. 

"I'm  glad  I  came  to  you  this  morning,  and 
I'm  glad  you  like  my  husband,  because,  Miss 
Doane — let  me  whisper  it  to  you — I  believe  I  do 
too!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

DRUSILLA  was  called  to  the  'phone  and  a 
nervous,  trembly-voiced  Daphne  spoke  to 
her. 

"May  I  come  over,  Miss  Doane?  I — I — 
want  to  get  away  from  the  house  and  talk  to 
some  one —  May  I  come  over?" 

Drusilla  answered  quickly:  "Come  right 
along,  and  come  to  spend  the  day.  I  got  to  go 
to  the  home,  and  I'll  take  you  with  me." 

Soon  Daphne  came  up  the  driveway  and 
stopped  to  look  at  two  big  baskets  being  put  into 
the  motor  car,  and  before  she  could  ring  the  bell 
Drusilla  dressed  for  driving  came  to  the  door. 

"Git  right  in,  Daphne,"  Drusilla  said,  putting 
on  her  gloves.  "Push  that  basket  more  to  the 
front — there,  that's  right.  Have  you  got  that 
bundle,  Joseph?  Don't  lose  it  out.  Now  go 
just  as  fast  as  you  can,  but  don't  git  arrested." 
As  she  sat  down  by  the  side  of  Daphne  she  added: 
"I'm  always  in  mortal  fear  of  being  arrested, 
'cause  I  like  to  go  fast.  I  don't  care  about  the 
arrested  part,  but  it'd  git  my  name  in  the  papers 

275 


again  and  then  your  father'd  make  me  one  of  his 
'severity'  visits,  and  1  don't  seem  never  to  git 
used  to  them.  When  James  tells  me  your  father 
is  waitin'  for  me  it  makes  me  feel  jest  like  I  used 
to  when  I  done  somethin'  wrong  and  was  called 
into  the  parlor,  where  I  always  got  my  scoldings, 
'cause  mother  knew  the  kitchen  wouldn't  awe  me. 
But"— and  she  chuckled— "I'm  gittin'  kind  of 
used  even  to  him,  and  I'm  gittin'  so  independent 
there  ain't  no  livin'  with  me.  I  even  show  it 
the  way  I  walk.  When  I  was  ordered  around 
by  everybody,  I  used  to  sort  of  tiptoe  around 
so's  not  to  call  attention  to  myself.  Now  I  come 
down  so  hard  on  my  heels  I  have  to  wear  rubber 
ones  so's  not  to  jar  rny  spine.  But" — she 
looked  keenly  at  the  pale  face  beside  her  and  the 
eyes  that  showed  signs  of  recent  tears — "what's 
the  matter,  dear?  Have  you  been  cryin'?" 

"Oh,  I'm  in  such  trouble,  Miss  Doane," 
Daphne  said  with  a  choke  in  her  voice. 

Drusilla  patted  her  hand. 

"It  can't  be  great  trouble,  Daphne." 

"Yes,  it  is,  Miss  Doane.  No  one  has  such 
trouble  as  I  have,  I'm  sure." 

"Hush,  dear,  hush!  Wait  a  minute.  Let  me 
show  you  a  letter  I  got  last  night  from  Barbara, 
and  then  you'll  know  what  real  trouble  means." 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      277 

She  drew  from  her  bag  a  folded  piece  of  paper 
and  handed  it  to  Daphne. 

"Read  that,"  she  said;  and  Daphne  read  a 
badly  spelled,  badly  written  scrawl,  in  the  writing 
of  an  old  woman  unused  to  holding  a  pen: 

DEAR  DRUSILLA: 

I  wish  you'd  come  and  see  us.  Mis  Abbott  has  took 
poison  that  she  got  out  of  the  medcin  closet,  cause  she's 
lost  her  money  and  can't  pay  her  board  no  more  and 
she  says  she'd  ruther  die  than  be  charity,  cause  she's 
always  looked  down  on  charity,  and  bin  so  stuck  up 
about  her  family.  They  got  it  out  of  her  with  a 
stumak  pump  and  she  won't  die  this  time  but  she  says 
she'll  do  it  again  cause  she  can't  live  and  be  charity. 
Won't  you  come  and  see  her  and  perhaps  you  can  do 
something  with  her,  we  can't. 

BARBARA. 

Daphne  handed  the  note  back  to  Drusilla,  who 
put  it  carefully  into  her  bag  before  she  spoke. 

"Now,  do  you  see  what  real  trouble  is?  Do 
you  remember  me  tellin'  you  about  Mis'  Abbott, 
whose  father  was  a  general  and  whose  husband 
was  some  sort  of  official  down  South?  Well, 
they're  all  dead  and  her  only  daughter  died  when 
she  was  a  little  girl  and  she  hadn't  nothin'  left 
but  memories  and  just  enough  money  to  keep 


278      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

her  in  the  home.  It  was  in  some  railroad  stock 
and  now  I  guess  it's  gone  too.  She  was  awful 
proud,  and  I  can  see  how  she  feels.  She  always 
looked  down  on  me  'cause  I  was  charity,  but  I 
don't  hold  it  agin  her.  She's  had  her  arms  full 
of  sorrow  and  now  they're  too  old  to  carry  more." 

"Poor  woman!"  said  Daphne  softly.  "What 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  ain't  got  it  all  figgered  out  yet.  I  talked 
it  over  with  John  till  late  last  night,  and  then 
afterward  it  come  to  me.  I  guess  I  can  do  some- 
thin'.  The  main  thing  is  to  make  her  want  to 
live,  make  her  think  some  one  wants  her.  You 
know,  Daphne,  that's  the  great  sorrow  of  the 
old;  to  feel  that  they  ain't  needed  no  more;  that 
every  one  can  git  along  just  as  well  if  not  a  little 
better  without  'em  than  with  'em.  When  they 
see  that,  they  want  to  die." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry  I  said  anything  about  my 
troubles — they  are  so  little !  Yet  they  seemed  so 
big  last  night — and  this  morning — this  morn- 
ing-" 

"Well,  what  happened  this  mornin'?  Tell 
me,  dear;  it'll  make  you  feel  better  and  then 
you'll  see  they  ain't  so  very  bad  after  all." 

"This  morning  Mother  talked  to  me,  and 
Father  was  nasty  to  me  at  the  breakfast  table 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      279 

and — "  and  again  the  pretty  eyes  filled  with 
tears. 

"Who  is  it  about  this  time?" 

"There's  no  this  time;  it's  always  the  same. 
It's— it's— Dr.  Eaton." 

Drusilla  laughed. 

"I  knowed  it!  I  seen  it  a-comin'  a  long  time. 
What  you  and  Dr.  Eaton  been  doin'?" 

"We  haven't  been  doing  anything.  Only  I 
walked  home  with  him  from  your  house  last 
night,  and  we  walked  a  while  and — and — Mother 
and  Father  talked  to  me,  and — " 

"Yes,  your  father's  held  some  forth  to  me 
about  Dr.  Eaton,  but  I  only  laugh  at  him.  I 
like  that  young  man." 

Daphne  snuggled  her  hand  into  Drusilla's. 

"That's  the  reason  I  can  talk  to  you;  you  will 
understand — because — " 

Drusilla  laughed  again. 

"Because — because — you  like  him  too." 
Daphne's  pretty  face  colored. 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  you?"  said  Drusilla. 

"Mother  says  that  he's  only  a  poor  doctor,  that 
he's  not  the  kind  that'll  ever  make  money." 

"Money — money!  Why,  he'll  always  make 
enough  for  you  to  live  on,  and  more  money'd  only 
be  used  to  buy  amusements  to  keep  you  from 


280      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

thinkin' ;  but  the  way  you  and  him  could  live  to 
gether,  you'd  like  to  think.  So  what's  the  use 
of  money?" 

"But  Mother  says—" 

"Now,  Daphne,  I  don't  want  to  say  nothin' 
ahout  your  mother.  She's  been  real  neighborly 
to  me  so  far  as  she  knows  how,  but  she's  too  so 
ciety  for  me,  and  we  ain't  got  one  thing  that  we 
can  talk  to  each  other  about.  She  thinks  more 
about  the  polish  of  a  person's  fingernails  or  the 
set  of  her  dress  than  she  does  about  the  color  of 
a  soul  or  the  heart  that  looks  out  from  the  eyes, 
but — I  shouldn't  say  that — your  mother  is  your 
mother  and  she  means  well  by  you,  and  you  must 
respect  her  judgments." 

Daphne  looked  up  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 

"Her  judgment  in  regard  to  Dr.  Eaton,  too?" 

"Well,"  said  Drusilla,  "I  wouldn't  go  so  far 
as  that;  but — what  else  did  she  say  besides  that 
you  wouldn't  have  enough  to  eat?" 

"Oh,  of  course  she  didn't  say  that,  but  she  said 
that  he  could  never  afford  to  give  me  a  motor  car 
or—" 

"Well,  if  you  don't  have  but  one  car  you'll 
have  to  ride  around  with  him  in  his'n,  and  that 
won't  be  no  hardship.  Just  think  what  a  nice 
time  you  could  have  ridin'  around  these  roads  in 
that  noisy,  smelly  little  car  of  his,  and  waitin'  at 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      281 

the  gate  when  he  went  in  to  see  the  Smith  baby. 
Why — why — I'd  like  to  do  it  myself!" 

"Yes,  I'd  like  it  too;  but  Mother  is  always  say 
ing  that  it's  a  pity  that  he  is  a  general  practi 
tioner  instead  of  a  specialist.  It's  only  the 
specialists  that  make  money  and  get  on." 

"Pshaw,  you  tell  her  that  Dr.  Eaton  is  a  gen 
eral  practitioner  in  his  business,  but  a  specialist  in 
his  love  affairs,  and  that's  all  that  you  need  worry 
about." 

"Then,  you  don't  think  it  would  be  hard  to 
economize?" 

"Daphne,  you  won't  have  to  economize  on  love, 
and  with  lots  of  that  you  won't  miss  the  other 
things.  Now,  Daphne,  I  suppose  I  shouldn't 
meddle  in  this,  it  ain't  none  of  my  business,  but  I 
like  Dr.  Eaton,  and  I  more'n  like  you,  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  make  a  mistake.  Dr.  Eaton  won't 
promise  you  a  life  of  roses  and  leave  you  to  pull 
out  all  the  thorns.  I  know  him.  And  I  jest 
want  you  two  young  things  to  share  the  very  best 
things  in  life  when  you're  young,  and  when  you 
grow  old  together  you  won't  see  the  bald  spot  on 
his  head  gittin'  bigger,  and  he  won't  see  your 
gray  hairs  a-comin',  'cause  you  won't  ever  be 
lookin'  above  each  other's  eyes.  You  know, 
Daphne,  I'm  seventy  years  old  and  I've  looked 
on  lots  of  things  with  my  old  eyes,  and  it  ain't 


282      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

always  the  rich  that  have  found  the  most  precious 
jewel;  it's  the  poor  couple  who've  got  just  enough 
to  live  on — and  each  other." 

Daphne  smiled  up  at  Drusilla. 

"Oh,  Miss  Doane,  you  make  it  seem  so  heav 
enly!" 

"Yes,  it  is  Heaven,  and  love  is  the  bridge  that 
you  cross  on,  and  when  you  git  across  you  can't 
always  be  singin'  the  weddin'-march — but  after 
wards — well,  you  can  hum  a  lullaby. 

"Now  we're  comin'  to  the  house" — as  they 
turned  into  the  drive — "and  I  jest  want  to  say 
this,  dear — '  She  took  Daphne's  face  in  her  two 
hands  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  "Life  is  a  won 
derful  garden,  dear,  a  garden  where  the  air  is 
filled  with  perfume,  a  garden  filled  with  flowers, 
with  heart's-ease  and  forget-me-nots,  and  if  you 
wander  down  its  moonlit  pathway  with  your  loved 
one's  hand  in  yours,  you're  bound  to  find  the  en 
chanted  palace  where  love's  dream  comes  true — 
So  dream,  my  dear,  jest  dream. 

"Now,  there's  Miss  Smith,"  as  the  motor 
stopped.  "How  do  you  do,  Mis'  Smith?  How 
do  you  do,  Barbara?  You  was  lookin'  for  me? 
Yes,  I  come  jest  as  soon  as  I  could.  How  is  Mis' 
Abbott?  Take  them  baskets  on  the  porch,  and 
that  bundle  goes  upstairs.  Can  I  go  up  and  see 
Mis'  Abbott?" 


"Yes,  come  right  up.  I  told  her  you  were 
coming,  but  she  says  she  won't  see  you.  But  I 
think  she  will,"  said  Mrs.  Smith. 

"Of  course  she  will.  I'm  comin'  right  along. 
Daphne,  you  go  out  on  the  porch  there  with  the 
ladies  and  open  them  baskets.  I  worked  half 
the  night  and  kept  the  cook  up  the  other  half  to 
get  the  things  ready.  The  names  is  on  the  things. 
You  give  'em  to  the  ladies,  and  jest  stay  and  let 
'em  look  at  you.  It'll  be  a  treat  as  good  as  the 
things  in  the  baskets." 

She  followed  Barbara  up  the  long  stairs.  At 
the  door  she  turned. 

"Don't  come  in,  Barbara;  I'll  go  in  alone." 
And  she  went  into  the  "best"  room  of  the  home, 
because  Mrs.  Abbott  had  been  able  to  pay  a  little 
more  than  that  paid  by  the  other  guests. 

Drusilla  found  the  little  woman  in  bed,  with 
her  face  turned  to  the  wall.  She  did  not  move 
until  Drusilla  put  her  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"I've  come  to  see  you,  Mis'  Abbott." 

The  woman  looked  up  at  Drusilla  a  moment, 
then  put  her  faded  old  hands  over  her  face. 

"I  don't  want  to  see  you,  Drusilla,  I  don't  want 
to  see  you." 

"Pshaw,  now,"  answered  Drusilla,  "yes,  you 
do,  Mis'  Abbott.  I  come  jest  a  purpose  to  see 
you." 


284      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Oh,  but  I  don't  want  to  see  you,"  wailed  the 
feeble  old  voice.  "I  always  called  you  'charity' 
and  now  I'm  charity  myself.  I  wish  I  could  die, 
I  wish  I  could  die!" 

"No,  you  don't,"  said  Drusilla  softly.  "You 
want  to  live  and  you're  glad  to  see  me." 

"I  ain't!  I  teU  you,  I  ain't!  I  called  you 
charity!" 

"Yes,  but  I  didn't  mind,  and  if  I  hadn't  been 
charity,  Elias  Doane  wouldn't  'a'  found  me,  and 
I  wouldn't  be  here  goin'  to  take  you  home  with 
me." 

"What!"  said  the  old  lady,  looking  up. 
"What'd  you  say,  Drusilla?" 

"I  said  I'm  goin'  to  take  you  home  with  me." 

"You  are — you  are — going  to  take  me  away 
from  here — here  where  all  the  ladies'll  laugh  at 
me  because  I'm  charity?  But — but—  Oh,  I'll 
have  to  come  back  again  even  if  you  do  take  me, 
I'll  have  to  come  back  again  and  be—  Oh,  I 
want  to  die — I'd  rather  die!" 

Drusilla  took  the  hands  from  the  wrrinkled  face 
and  held  them  in  her  own. 

"Now  let  me  set  here  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
and  you  listen  to  me,  Mis'  Abbott.  When  I  got 
Barbara's  letter  last  night,  I  jest  set  for  hours 
thinkin'  it  all  over,  and  it  all  come  to  me  of  a 
sudden.  Why,  I  need  you  so  bad,  Mis'  Abbott, 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION       285 

I  wonder  how  I  got  along  without  you  all  this 
time.  You  know  I  got  a  lot  of  young  people 
at  my  house,  and  no  one  with  sense  but  myself  to 
watch  over  them,  and  we  need  some  one  like  your 
self  bad,  and  if  you  won't  come  I'll  have  to  look 
around  for  some  one  else,  and  it'll  put  me  to  a  lot 
of  trouble." 

The  old  lady  looked  up  wonderingly. 

"But  what  can  I  do,  Drusilla?" 

"Oh,  there's  lots  of  things  you  kin  do,  but  one 
thing  special.  When  I  went  into  the  nursery 
last  night  and  saw  Mary  Allen  settin'  there  alone 
by  the  window,  I  said  to  myself,  'Mary  needs  a 
mother.  She  don't  ever  remember  havin'  a 
mother,  and  then  I  remembered  you  lost  your 
little  girl  most  forty  years  ago,  and  if  she'd  'a' 
growed  up  she  might  'a'  had  a  little  girl  like 
Mary,  and  I  want  you  to  come  and  be  a  mother 
to  my  Mary  and  a  grandmother  to  her  baby." 

"Oh,  is  she  grown  up  and  married?" 

"Never  mind,  she's  only  a  little  child,  a  lovin' 
little  child  with  a  baby — and  a  sorrow.  But 
you'll  come  and  see  your  Mary  in  her  eyes,  and 
she'll  have  a  mother  and  you  a  daughter  again, 
and  you'll  both  find  happiness  in  each  other.  She 
needs  you,  Mis'  Abbott,  and  you  need  her —  Say 
you'll  come." 

The  old  lady  looked  for  a  moment  into  Dru- 


286      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

silla's  eyes ;  then  she  broke  into  the  hysterical  sob 
bing  of  the  old  and  helpless. 

"I  didn't  think  no  one  needed  me — no  one 
wanted  me.  I  thought  I  jest  cumbered  up  the 
earth.  Drusilla,  do  you  think  she  really  needs 
me,  that  any  one  really  needs  me,  that  I  don't 
have  to  be  a  burden  the  rest  of  my  days?  Oh, 
if  I  thought  some  one  wanted  me —  Perhaps  it's 
my  Mary  come  back  to  me — my  Mary — my  little 
girl — my  little  girl — " 

Drusilla  let  her  cry,  patting  her  hand  softly 
from  time  to  time.  Then,  when  the  storm  had 
spent  itself,  she  said : 

"  Yes,  it's  your  Mary  come  back  to  you.  Don't 
you  remember  that  you  said  your  Mary  had 
brown  eyes— 

"Yes, — yes—  "  and  eager  fingers  were  tugging 
at  an  old-fashioned  locket  hanging  to  a  slender 
chain  around  her  neck.  "See — here  she  is — her 
eyes  are  brown  and  her  hair  all  curled  around  her 
face,  and  her  lips  was  just  like  a  rose — and  her 
face — oh,  her  pretty  face — " 

Drusilla  studied  the  picture  carefully. 

"Yes,  it's  jest  like  this  other  Mary.  Her  hair 
is  all  in  little  curls  around  her  face  and  her  brown 
eyes  jest  like  a  child's,  a  wonderin'  child's  whose 
waitin'  for  her  mother." 

The  old  lady  rose  from  the  bed. 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       287 

"Can  I  go  now,  Drusilla?    Can  I  go  now?" 

"Are  you  well  enough?  Can  you  stand  the 
trip?" 

Mrs.  Abbott  laughed. 

"Only  sorrow  makes  one  feeble,  sorrow  and 
loneliness ;  but  hope  makes  one  strong,  and  I  got 
hope  again — I  want  to  live,  Drusilla — I  want  to 
live/" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JOHN,"  Drusilla's  hand  carefully  opened  the 
door  and  Drusilla's  head  peered  warily  into 
the  opening,  "Are  you  alone?  Has  he  gone?" 
She  looked  around  the  room.  "Yes,  he's  gone. 
I'll  come  in."  She  closed  the  door  behind  her 
and  came  to  her  favorite  seat  before  the  fire. 

"John,  I  didn't  adopt  the  Reverend  Algernon 
Thompson,  did  I?" 

"Why,  no,  Drusilla;  I  don't  think  you  adopted 
him.  Why?" 

"Well,"  breathing  a  sigh  of  relief,  "I'm  glad 
to  hear  you  say  it.  I  didn't  know  but  that  night 
when  I  was  so  relieved  and  so  scared  about  put- 
tin'  him  in  jail,  that  I  hadn't  said  more'n  I  meant. 
I  know  I  asked  him  to  come  and  stop  here  when 
ever  he  come  to  New  York,  but  I  didn't  mean  to 
live  here.  I  don't  see  how  his  church  gits  along 
without  him  so  much." 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  Reverend  Alger 
non,  Drusilla?  I  like  him.  His  knowledge  of 
chivalry  is — " 

"Yes,  I  know  you  two  pore  over  them  old  books 

288 


and  study  them  tin  men,  and  he  seems  to  be  a 
great  comfort  to  you.  But  he  ain't  no  comfort 
to  me,  John.  I  guess  I'm  gittin'  old  and  finicky. 
I  jest  can't  put  my  finger  on  the  spot  that  riles 
me,  but  that  man  riles  me.  He's  always  so  good 
and  so  sort  of  angelic,  and  I  don't  like  people 
who  are  too  good.  A  man  without  a  few  failin's 
is  like  underclothes  without  trimmin',  useful  but 
uninterestin',  and — and — then,  John,  he's  one 
of  them  fussy  little  men  who's  always  puffin' 
around  and  never  doin'  nothin'  worth  while,  just 
like  a  little  engine  in  a  switchyard  that  snorts  and 

tt 

puffs  and  makes  a  lot  of  noise  pullin'  a  dump- 
wagon.  And — then,  sometimes,  I  wonder  about 
his  religion,  he's  so  narrer,  he's  got  lots  of  re 
ligion  but  not  so  much  Christianity.  He  kind  of 
thinks  that  Heaven's  goin'  to  be  made  up  of  him 
and  a  few  Presbyterians,  mainly  from  his  con 
gregation.  He  kind  of  seems  to  think  that 
Heaven's  going  to  be  a  special  place  for  him 
where  he'll  strut  around  the  only  rooster  and  his 
flock'll  foller  after  singin'  praises  to  him  instead 
of  to  the  Almighty." 

"Why,  Drusilla,  I  thought  you  said  when  he 
was  so  interested  in  those  children  of  his  parish 
that  he  ought  to  be  a  very  good  man." 

"So  he  ought  to  be  a  good  man,  and  a  man's 
legs  ought  to  reach  from  his  body  to  the  ground 


290      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

but  sometimes  he  has  one  short  leg  that  don't 
quite  tech.  Now  the  Reverend  wasn't  interested 
so  much  in  takin'  care  of  them  children  as  he  was 
in  showin'  how  he  could  raise  money.  I  remem 
ber  when  I  was  in  the  Ladies'  Aid  of  the  Pres 
byterian  Church  and  we  made  clothes  for  the 
heathen,  we  wasn't  so  much  interested  in  clothing 
the  heathen  as  we  was  that  we  had  a  bigger  box 
at  the  end  of  the  year  than  the  Baptists  had. 
Just  as  when  some  of  these  societies  git  to  raisin' 
money  for  the  poor  or  for  some  new  buildin'  or 
something,  and  they  divide  their  'raisers'  up  in 
bands,  the  people  who  ask  you  for  subscriptions 
fergit  what  it  is  for  in  their  hurry  to  show  that 
they  raised  more'n  some  other  band." 

"I'm  afraid,  Drusilla,  that  Mr.  Thompson  has 
got  on  to  your  nerves." 

"I  ain't  got  no  nerves,  John.  I  leave  that  for 
women  with  husbands  to  work  'em  off  on.  I 
don't  know  what  it  is  with  this  preacher.  He's  a 
good  man  accordin'  to  his  lights,  but  he  makes 
me  fidgety  a  rumblin'  away  about  his  work  and 
his  creeds  and  things  like  a  volcano  that  don't 
never  blow  up.  I  wish  he'd  let  off  a  little  steam 
once  in  a  while,  or  spit  out  a  few  rocks  and  stones 
jest  to  liven  up  things  a  bit." 

"I'll  admit  he  is  a  little  bit  self-centered." 

"What's  that?    Oh,  you  mean  he's  got  in- 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       291 

growin'  feelings.  Yes,  everythin'  that  he  has  to 
do  with  is  big.  Why,  John,  he's  the  kind  of  a 
man  that'd  entertain  his  wife  by  talkin'  about  his 
corns,  and  think  it  interestin'  because  they  was 
his'n." 

John  laughed. 

"Perhaps  if  he  was  married  and  had  a  wife  to 
tell  him  a  few  things — " 

"John — John!"  Drusilla  sat  up  very  sud 
denly  in  her  chair.  "Why  didn't  I  think  of  her 
before!" 

"Think  of  whom,  Drusilla  ?  I  thought  we  were 
talking  about  the  Reverend  Algernon,  and  he's  a 
he.3' 

"Sarah  Lee." 

"Sarah  Lee?     I  don't  follow  you,  Drusilla." 

"John,  some  men  are  ugly,  most  men  are  con 
ceited,  and  all  men  are  thick-headed,  and  you're 
a  man.  Think  of  what  a  wife  she'd  make  him!" 

"Why,  Drusilla!"  John  looked  a  little  dazed. 
"I  thought — I  thought  you  didn't  care  especially 
for  Sarah  Lee.  I  heard  you,  if  I  remember 
rightly—" 

"Never  mind,  John.  Your  memory's  too  long 
to  be  convenient.  Never  mind  what  I  said — I 
take  it  all  back.  She's  jest  the  wife  for  him. 
They  jest  fit  together.  They  ain't  neither  one  of 
'em  got  a  sense  of  humor.  She's  the  kind  of  a 


292      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

woman  who'd  tell  him  a  funny  story  when  he's 
shavin',  and  he's  the  kind  of  a  man  that'd  ask  her 
where  she  put  his  clean  shirt  when  she  was  doin' 
up  her  back  hair  with  her  mouth  full  of  pins. 
It'd  be  too  bad  to  spile  two  good  families  with 
'em." 

"But,  Drusilla,  they're  neither  one  of  them 
thinking  about  getting  married.  Perhaps  they 
don't  want  to." 

"Shows  how  little  you  know  about  human  na- 
tur',  John,  especially  woman  human  natur'. 
Sarah  Lee'd  jump  at  the  chance.  She'd  been 
settin'  in  the  station  for  a  long  time  waitin'  for 
the  express  to  pick  her  up;  now  she'd  be  willin' 
to  take  a  slow  freight." 

"Well,  she  might  do  worse.  He's  likely  and 
healthy—" 

"Humph — so's  an  onion.  But  he's  a  good 
man,  John,  and  I  trust  Sarah  to  make  him  over 
into  anything  she  wants.  She's  a  managin' 
woman." 

"But — but,  Drusilla,  I  don't  think  he  wants  to 
get  married,  even  if  she  does." 

"Of  course  he  don't.  No  man  does ;  they  have 
to  be  led  up  to  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  this.  He  might 
not  want  Sarah.  He  looks  to  me  like  a  man  who 
knows  his  own  mind." 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"He  ain't  got  a  wide  acquaintance  if  it's  all  he 
knows.  But  I  mustn't  be  mean.  'Cause  I 
couldn't  live  with  him  ain't  no  reason  that  a  lot 
of  women  couldn't  stand  him.  He's  been  a  batch 
too  long  and  always  had  his  own  way,  and  he's 
been  a  preacher  where  he  could  talk  to  people 
and  they  dassent  talk  back,  but  Sarah'd  change 
all  that,  and  make  him  real  human  before  a  year 
was  past.  I'm  glad  you  thought  of  it,  John." 

John  looked  up,  surprised. 

"Me?    Drusilla!     It  never  entered  my  head.'* 

"Didn't  it?  Well,  you  ought  to  'a'  thought 
of  it  before,  and  it'd  all  be  done  now.  Here 
we've  wasted  all  these  months,  and  I've  been  pes 
tered  to  death  with  'em  both.  She's  done  more 
tattin'  settin'  in  my  sun  parlor  than'd  trim  all  the 
petticoats  in  Brookvale.  But,  John,  her  heart  is 
good  and  is  kind  of  thawin'  about  the  babies.  I 
seen  her  a-givin'  yards  o'  that  stuff  to  Mary 
Allen  the  other  day  to  trim  her  baby's  dresses; 
and  when  little  Isaac  got  most  run  over  she  got 
as  white  as  a  sheet  and  we  both  cried  over  him 
together,  which  kind  of  brought  us  closer.  And 
if  she  marries  Algernon,  they'll  have  babies  and 
she'll  jest  blossom  right  out." 

"You  seem  to  be  planning  rather  far  ahead, 
aren't  you?" 

"No  one  has  to  be  a  prophet  to  say  a  preacher'll 


294      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

have  babies.  That's  ginerally  about  all  they  do 
have." 

"It's  your  business,  Drusilla;  but  I  can't  un 
derstand  why  you  want  these  two  very  worthy 
people  to  marry — " 

"Can't  you  see  through  a  fence-post,  John? 
If  Sarah  marries  the  Reverend  Algernon,  she'll 
have  to  move  to  Adams,  and  she'll  keep  him  hop- 
pin'  around  so  fast  that  he  won't  git  time  to  come 
visitin'  me  so  often." 

"Oh,  you  are  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone!" 

"Say  it  any  way  you  want  to,  but  they  was 
made  for  each  other,  and  I  want  to  see  Sarah 
married  with  a  growin'  family  on  her  hands  and 
then  she  won't  have  so  much  time  to  think  and 
talk  about  her  neighbors.  She  does  it  jest  be 
cause  she  ain't  got  nothin'  else  to  do;  but  if  she 
has  to  watch  Johnny  through  the  measles,  and 
Lizzie  through  the  mumps,  and  see  that  Willie's 
stockings  is  patched,  she  won't  have  time  to  tatt 
or  tattle,  and  it'll  make  her  a  real  woman,  in 
stead  of  jest  an  old  maid.  Is  he  comin'  back  to 
night?"  ' 

"No;  he  has  gone  to  his  room." 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  I'd  ever  be  sorry  not  to 
see  Algernon,  but  I'd  like  to  begin  on  him  to 
night  when  it's  fresh  in  my  mind,  and  I  could  put 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       295 

spirit  in  my  work.  What  you  goin'  to  do  with 
him  to-morrow?" 

"We  are  goin'  to  go  over  again  those  last 
books  on  chivalry  that  I  bought — 

"Now,  you  leave  them  old  books  go,  and  when 
you  git  him  alongside  of  one  of  them  iron  men, 
that  must  'a'  had  a  derrick  to  heave  him  on  his 
horse,  come  down  to  earth  and  talk  about  women. 
Point  out  that  that  man  must  'a'  had  a  wife  to 
buckle  all  his  straps,  or  somethin'  like  that,  and 
then  tell  him  how  all  men  ought  to  be  married. 
Show  how  you're  a  shinin'  example  of  how  a  man 
looks  that  ain't  had  a  wife  to  see  that  he  don't 
spill  egg  on  his  shirt  bosom  or  make  him  change 
his  underclothes  Saturday  night.  Flatter  him. 
Tell  him  he  is  a  big,  strong  man — all  little  men 
like  that — but  tell  him  that  no  matter  how  strong 
a  man  is  he  ain't  strong  enough  to  put  the  studs 
in  his  own  shirt — and  so  lead  up  to  Sarah.  You 
can  do  it,  John,  if  you  go  about  it  right.  Git  him 
interested,  and  I'll  take  care  of  Sarah." 

"But  it's  a  great  risk,  Drusilla.  They  might 
be  so  happy  that  they'd  always  be  grateful  and 
both  want  to  come  and  visit  you." 

Drusilla  raised  her  hands  and  then  dropped 
them  in  despair. 

"The  Lord  forbid,  John." 


296      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"Don't  you  want  them  to  be  happy,  Drusilla? 
If  you  don't  think  they  would  be,  you  hadn't  bet 
ter  meddle  in  it." 

"Certainly,  they'll  be  happy.  Sarah's  a  good 
woman.  Her  milk  of  human  kindness  is  a  leetle 
bit  curdled  now  and  sets  hard  on  her  stomach,  but 
marriage'll  be  the  soda  that'll  clear  it  all  up. 
And  her  husband  won't  have  to  put  a  tin  mask 
on  her  face  to  keep  from  bein'  jealous,  and  she 
won't  need  to  fear  his  gettin'  in  temptation,  'cause 
she  won't  let  him  come  to  the  city  alone  long 
enough  to  git  real  busy  huntin'  it  up.  Sarah's 
jest  the  wife  for  a  parsonage.  She's  turnin'  more 
and  more  to  religion  and  preachers  as  she  gits 
older,  like  a  lot  of  women  do  when  they  find 
they're  not  excitin'  enough  to  interest  the  other 
kind.  Now,  John,  be  careful  what  you  say.  A 
man  is  like  a  kitten — try  to  catch  him  and  he'll 
run.  Don't  fling  Sarah  at  his  head — it'd  be  like 
flingin'  a  bone  at  a  cat;  jest  chase  him  away  in 
stead  of  drawin'  him  to  her.  Now  I'm  goin'  to 
telephone  her  and  ask  her  to  come  over  to-mor 
row,  and  I'll  prepare  the  way.  And  you,  John," 
and  Drusilla  rose  and  shook  her  finger  at  him, 
"now  you  be  careful  what  you  say,  but  say  it." 

The  plan  worked  even  better  than  Drusilla 
had  hoped.  Under  Miss  Lee's  very  evident  ad 
miration,  the  Reverend  Algernon  seemed  to  grow 


DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION      297 

at  least  three  inches  in  height,  and  his  rather 
prosy  compliments  did  not  fall  upon  too  critical 
nor  blase  ears.  Sarah  blushed  and  fluttered  and 
stammered  as  would  any  young  girl  with  her  first 
sweetheart.  She  even  grew  pretty;  took  to  ar 
ranging  her  hair  in  a  more  becoming  style  and 
was  particular  about  her  dress.  One  morning 
she  came  over  with  a  fluffy  little  gown  that  cer 
tainly  took  ten  years  from  her  age,  and  Drusilla 
looked  at  her  in  amazement.  She  confided  to 
John:  "I've  heard  that  women  had  an  Indian 
Summer  but  Sarah's  surely  having  her  early 
spring.  And,  John,  I  always  thought  that 
courtin'  was  like  cookin' — you  had  to  learn  by 
experience ;  but  them  two  seem  to  take  to  it  nat 
ural.  It's  makin'  Sarah  over,  I  tell  you.  Why, 
I  even  heard  her  say  that  she  thought  Bessie  Grey 
was  pretty,  and  she  used  to  say  about  any  girl 
that  was  so  pretty  that  a  blind  man'd  have  to 
admit  it,  'Yes,  she's  pretty,  but  it  is  the  kind  that'll 
fade  early/  Why,  she  ain't  shot  a  poison  arrow 
at  nobody's  good  luck  sense  they  met." 

"You  seem  to  give  them  chance  enough  to  see 
each  other." 

"Yes;  I  want  them  to  find  out  each  other's 
beauties.  I  set  up  nights  tryin'  to  find  errands 
to  send  'em  together  down  town  in  the  motor. 
Take  a  man  and  a  woman  and  put  'em  close  to- 


298      DRUSILLA    WITH   A   MILLION 

gether,  in  a  rich,  soft  motor  car,  with  nice  cushions 
to  lean  against  and  a  chauffeur  who  can't  hear 
'em,  and  something  is  bound  to  happen  if  they're 
human  beings.  And  I  git  her  to  serve  tea  under 
the  trees  and  let  him  see  what  a  nice  housewife 
she'd  make,  and  how  she'd  show  off  to  his  women 
in  the  church.  Do  you  notice  she  don't  talk  so 
much?  jest  sets  quiet  and  smiles,  which  is  wise  of 
her,  as  she  looks  best  that  way.  Why,  she  used 
to  be  like  an  electric  fan  buzzing  away  all  day  and 
fannin'  up  nothin'  but  hot  air.  John,  I  feel  I'm 
doin'  some  good  in  the  world.  If  I  keep  on,  it'll 
be  a  temptation  to  die  just  to  read  the  epigraphs 
my  friends'll  write  of  me.  But  I  ain't  goin'  to 
die  fer  a  while;  I'm  goin'  to  set  right  down  and 
go  over  them  invitations  we  sent  for  the  people 
who's  comin'  next  week  for  my  birthday.  Dr. 
Eaton  and  me  went  over  the  house;  it's  all  ready, 
and  the  children  and  the  mothers'll  move  in  on 
Monday." 

Drusilla  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then 
she  reached  over  and  took  John's  hand  in  her  own. 

"John,  Wednesday  I  am  seventy-two  years  old. 
And  it's  more'n  fifty  years  sense  you  and  me  went 
walkin'  down  the  lane  together  first.  And 
you're  here  now  beside  me.  You  can  always  find 
some  one  to  share  your  money  and  your  joys, 
but  you  can't  ask  everybody  to  share  your  sor- 


DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION      299 

rows  and  your  troubles;  and  it  makes  me  feel  a 
sort  of  peace  and  quiet  to  know  that  you'll  al 
ways  be  near  me,  and  if  things  that  I've  planned 
don't  come  out  right,  that  I  kin  come  to  you  and 
talk  it  over  and  you'll  understand.  Lots  of  peo 
ple  when  they  hear  what  I'm  goin'  to  do  will 
say  that  I'm  an  old  fool,  that  I'm  impractical, 
and  lots  of  things  that'd  maybe  hurt,  if  I  didn't 
have  some  one  to  go  to  and  talk  it  over  with  who 
I  know  won't  be  critical  but  will  see  down  be 
neath  it  all  what  I'm  tryin'  to  do,  and  who'll 
understand.  That's  what  love  is,  John,  for  peo 
ple  who  grow  old — just  a  great,  great  friendship, 
and — an  understandiri '." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

COME  right  on  to  the  stoop,  Dr.  Eaton,  and 
let's  set  down  and  cool  off.  I'm  real  het 
up." 

Drusilla  settled  down  in  a  big  porch  rocker  and 
fanned  herself  with  the  paper  in  her  hand. 

"Now  let's  talk,  and  you  tell  me  all  about  it. 
What  did  you  say  that  last  club  was  we  was  to? 
You  been  a-takin'  me  to  so  many  places  lately 
that  I  fergit  their  names." 

"That  was  the  big  Socialists  Club." 

"Socialists — yes,  that's  what  you  called  it. 
Ain't  them  got  something  to  do  with  dynamite 
bombs  and  blowin'  up  people  and  things?" 

Dr.  Eaton  laughed. 

"No;  you  are  thinking  of  Nihilists  or  An 
archists.  These  people  are  very  mild ;  they  only 
have  ideas  how  to  run  the  old  world  in  a  new  way, 
and  they  are  especially  interested  in  the  question 
of  labor  and  capital." 

"Well,  they've  idees  enough,  if  that's  all  they 
need.  But  it  seems  to  me,  Dr.  Eaton,  that  these 
people  are  all  going  at  it  wrong-end-to.  Instid 

300 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       301 

of  workin'  with  people  in  bunches,  they  want  to 
take  'em  man  by  man  and  git  a  little  of  the  old- 
fashioned  religion  into  each  one  singly.  There's 
twro  commandments  give  us  to  live  by.  One  is, 
we  should  love  God ;  the  other  is  to  love  our  neigh 
bor  as  ourself.  Now,  if  each  one  got  that  sec 
ond  command  planted  deep  in  his  heart,  the  hired 
man'd  do  his  work  as  it  ought  to  be  done,  and  the 
man  who  hires  him'd  pay  him  right — so  there 
wouldn't  be  no  need  of  Socialists  or  Unions  or 
dynamite  bombs.  No,  you  can't  make  people  do 
the  right  thing  by  laws,  and  you  can't  put  love  in 
their  hearts  by  meetings  and  committees  and  talk. 
Each  man  must  git  it  for  himself  and  then  he'll 
do  the  square  thing  because  he  wants  to,  not  'cause 
he's  forced  to.  You  can  make  laws  against 
thievin'  and  build  prisons  to  put  men  in  who 
steal,  but  if  you  don't  change  a  man's  heart,  if  he 
wants  to  be  a  thief  he'll  find  some  way  o'  doin'  it- 
prisons  or  no  prisons." 

She  was  silent  a  few  moments ;  then  she  chuck 
led  softly  to  herself. 

"I  wanted  to  laugh  when  you  introduced  me  as 
a  woman  who  wanted  to  give  away  a  million  dol 
lars.  Why,  I  thought  fer  a  minute  I'd  be  run 
down,  if  one  was  to  judge  by  their  eyes.  But 
they  kind  of  caamed  down  when  they  learnt  I 
wanted  to  find  a  way  to  leave  it  in  my  will  so's 


302      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

it'd  do  the  most  good,  instead  of  givin'  it  away 
right  there  in  five-dollar  bills.  By  the  looks  of 
a  lot  of  'em  they  could  'a*  used  it  right  then  in 
gettin'  a  hair  cut  and  a  good  meal  of  vittles." 

"Yes;  some  of  them  do  look  rather  lank  and 
hungry;  but  there  are  some  very  clever  men 
among  them." 

"They  certainly  talked  a  lot.  Who  was  that 
young  man  who  talked  so  much  and  then  got  me 
into  a  corner.  He  was  kind  o'  wild-eyed." 

"That's  Swinesky,  a  Russian  Jew." 

"A  Roosian!  I  always  heerd  tell  that  them 
Roosians  know  what  to  do  with  other  people's 
money — and  a  Jew  too !  Well — well — and  I  got 
away  without  spending  nothin'.  He  told  me  a 
lot  of  ways  to  spend  my  money,  but  most  of  'em 
sounded  like — like — what  is  it  you  call  it— 

"Hot  air." 

"That's  jest  the  word — hot  air.  They  all  was 
perfectly  willin'  to  tell  me  what  to  do  with  it, 
as  it  wasn't  there'n,  but  what  I  want  is  to  find  a 
man  with  an  idee  that  he'd  think  good  enough  to 
carry  out  if  the  money  was  his'n.  We've  talked 
with  a  lot  of  people  about  the  best  way  to  dispose 
of  my  money  where  it'd  do  the  most  good,  and 
most  of  their  plans  wouldn't  hold  water.  But  it's 
good  of  you,  Dr.  Eaton,  to  take  me  round,  and  I 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       303 

git  a  little  idee  here  and  another  there,  and  some 
day  maybe  I'll  find  the  right  one. 

"I  see  the  newspapers  is  takin'  up  now  what 
I'm  askin'  everybody.  'What  will  she  do  with 
her  Million  Dollars?'  They'll  git  a  lot  of  an 
swers,  'cause  every  one's  got  an  idee  what  they'd 
do  if  they  had  that  money. 

"But  let's  not  talk  of  it  no  more — my  head 
buzzes.  I  dream  of  it  at  nights  and  see  it  all 
hangin'  round  the  bedposts,  and  a  lot  of  people 
takin'  it  that  I  don't  want  to,  and  me  not  bein' 
able  to  git  up  and  chase  'em  away.  Tell  me  about 
that  loan  you  asked  me  about  last  night,  and  I 
didn't  have  time  to  talk." 

Dr.  Eaton  sat  up,  interested  in  a  moment. 

"Do  you  remember  my  telling  you  about  the 
man  who  has  the  button  factory  in  Yonkers?" 

"He  is  the  man  who  wants  two  thousand  dol 
lars,  isn't  he?"  asked  Drusilla. 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Eaton.  "And  I  have  been 
to  see  him  and  I  think  it  is  a  poor  loan  unless 
his  business  is  looked  into  more  closely.  Now, 
Miss  Doane,  I  have  an  idea.  My  friend,  Frank 
Stillman,  has  just  started  into  business  as  an 
efficiency  engineer." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Drusilla,  interested  at 
once  in  anything  new. 


304      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"He  makes  it  his  business  to  study  firms  that 
are  going  to  the  wall  and  locate  their  trouble  and 
puts  them  on  their  feet  again,  if  possible.  I  took 
him  with  me  to  Mr.  Panoff ,  and  I  believe  he  could 
go  there  a  while  and  find  out  what  the  difficulty 
is.  It  used  to  be  a  good  business  when  Panoff 
bought  it,  but  he  seems  to  have  lost  his  grip  some 
way,  and  he  can't  see  far  enough  ahead  because 
he  is  so  crowded  by  the  daily  troubles.  An  out 
sider  will  be  able  to  see  with  a  better  perspec 
tive." 

"Are  we  goin'  to  let  this  Mr.  Panoff  have  the 
money  ?" 

"Xo;  not  at  present.  Here  is  my  scheme.  I 
want  you  to  put  Frank  in  there  for  a  time  and  let 
him  find  out  if  there  are  any  possibilities  of  get 
ting  the  business  back  on  its  feet.  If  Frank  suc 
ceeds,  we  will  let  Panoff  have  the  money  on  his 
personal  note,  if  he  agrees  to  follow  out  the  sug 
gestions  of  Frank. 

"I  have  another  idea  that  I  have  been  thinking 
about.  There  are  a  lot  of  small  business  ventures 
that  are  running  to  seed,  where  the  owner  is  get 
ting  discouraged,  and  lacks  the  broad  outlook  that 
would  keep  him  going,  and  needs  some  one  who 
is  a  professional  setter-up  like  Frank,  to  put  him 
wise,  and  to  readjust  his  business.  I  suggest 
that  we  hire  Frank,  for  at  least  a  part  of  his  time 


DRUSILLA   WITH    A    MILLION      305 

— he  won't  be  expensive,  as  he  is  just  starting — 
to  look  into  the  affairs  of  the  men  who  come  to 
us  for  money.  The  owner  must  agree  to  allow 
Frank  to  readjust  things  for  him,  and  then  when 
his  affairs  are  prospering  again,  he  will  pay  a  cer 
tain  sum  for  Frank's  services,  taking  the  expense 
away  from  us.  It  is  also  a  better  guarantee  for 
our  loan,  because  Frank  is  a  pretty  level-headed 
business  man  arid  if  there  are  any  possibilities  in 
the  run  down  business,  he  will  find  them,  and  if 
there  are  not  he  will  report  to  us.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"I  think  it  is  a  good  thing;  but  is  there  enough 
things  like  that  to  keep  him  busy?" 

"Well,  we  need  take  only  a  part  of  his  time; 
but  I  can  think  of  half  a  dozen  little  manufac 
turers  who  would  welcome  the  chance  to  find  out 
what  is  wrong.  That  publishing  house  I  was 
telling  you  about.  The  manager  is  impractical, 
is  paying  too  much  out  in  salaries,  hasn't  any 
method  in  his  establishment,  and  has  a  dozen  leaks 
that  he  can't  find,  but  which  could  easily  be  lo 
cated  by  a  professional  leak  finder.  There  are 
a  lot  of  men  in  business  who  are  honest  and  will 
ing  to  work,  but  who  are  in  a  rut  and  can't  see 
the  new  things  coming,  and  who  could  be  put  on 
their  feet  by  an  injection  of  a  little  outside  ginger 
and  a  readjustment  of  their  business  on  more 


306      DRUSILLA    WITH    A   MILLION 

modern  methods.  They  are  the  ones  who  need 
help  and  who  will  be  good  for  their  loans;  and 
that's  one  thing  we  are  going  to  try  to  make  sure 
of,  because  we  aren't  going  to  give  any  money 
away  if  we  know  it.  It's  going  to  be  a  real  serv 
ice  too,  Miss  Doane.  I  don't  think  there  is  any 
thing  more  pitiful  than  a  man,  who  has  been  in 
business  for  himself,  to  have  to  give  up  and  say  he 
is  a  failure.  It  hurts  to  be  compelled  to  go  into 
some  one's  shop  as  a  clerk  or  mechanic  when 
you've  once  been  your  own  master.  It'll  put 
jasm  into  a  lot  of  men  that  have  lost  their  nerve 
and  only  need  some  one  to  set  them  straight. 
You  won't  lose  by  it,  Miss  Doane;  I  am  sure  of 
that." 

"I  ain't  thinkin'  about  that.  Yet  I  ain't 
makin'  a  charity ;  it's  a  business,  and  I  don't  want 
a  lot  of  salaried  people  to  eat  up  everything. 
That's  too  much  like  most  of  them  charities  we 
looked  into.  I  want  this  a  business  that'll  sound 
sensible  and  that'll  be  sensible,  and  I  don't  want  a 
lot  of  failures  to  think  they  can  work  us.  I  want 
'em  to  find  that  they  got  the  wrong  pig  by  the  ear 
if  they  try  to  do  the  Doane  fund. 

"Bring  that  young  man  Frank  to  me  and  let 
me  look  him  over.  I  ain't  very  worldly,  but  I 
like  to  look  a  man  in  the  eye  if  he's  going  to  do 
something  for  me.  I  want  the  men  who's  goin' 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A   MILLION      307 

to  be  with  us,  ambitious,  upright  young  men  that's 
willin'  to  work.  I  hate  a  lazy  man — I  can  tell 
one  a  mile  off.  A  lazy  man's  worse'n  a  dead  one, 
'cause  a  dead  one's  put  away  and  can't  do  no 
harm  while  a  lazy  one's  always  around,  spoilin' 
the  ambitious  one's  work. 

"Now,  we  won't  talk  business  no  more.  Let's 
go  into  the  yard.  Daphne  is  there  with  some  of 
the  babies.  Let's  go  out  to  her." 

Dr.  Eaton  hesitated. 

"I  think  I  had  better  be  going  on  to  the  hos 
pital.  I— I—" 

Drusilla  looked  up  at  him  quickly. 

"Dr.  Eaton,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  I 
don't  understand  young  men  of  to-day  nohow. 
Here  I  been  for  more'n  a  year  tryin'  to  have  you 
and  Daphne  see  somethin'  of  each  other,  riskin' 
her  father  takin'  my  head  off,  and  now  you  shy 
off  as  if  you  thought  she  would  bite  you.  Don't 
you  like  my  little  girl?" 

Dr.  Eaton  flushed  under  the  clear  brown  of  his 
tan. 

"It  isn't  that,  Miss  Doane.  You  must  know 
what  I  think  of  Daphne." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  then?  You're  clear  beyond 
me." 

"Well— well— "  and  the  doctor  hesitated. 

"Well,  go  on.     Tell  me  all  about  it." 


308      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"It's  this  way,  Miss  Doane.  I'm  only  a  poor 
doctor  without  much  of  a  practise,  and  it'll  take 
me  several  years  to  work  into  a  good  one.  And 
Daphne — you  know  how  she  has  been  brought  up 
— and  the  kind  of  things  she  is  used  to  having — 
and  the  crowd  she  goes  with — ' 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"I — you  must  see,  Miss  Doane — that  I  can't 
give  Daphne  the  things  she  is  used  to  and  that 
she'd  quite  likely  expect  as  a  matter  of  course — 
not  that  she  is  any  more  mercenary  than  any  of 
the  rest  of  the  girls  of  her  set,  but  she  doesn't 
understand  not  being  rich — she  has  never  known 
anything  else — " 

"Oh,  stuff  and  nonsense !     I  know  Daphne." 

"Yes,  but  her  people;  her  father — and,  O 
Lord,  Miss  Doane — her  mother — " 

"I  confess  she  is  some  pill  to  take;  but  there's 
one  consolation — you  don't  have  to  live  with  your 
mother-in-law  in  these  times,  and  you  ain't  mar- 
ryin'  the  hull  family.  Is  that  all?" 

"No— but,  then—" 

"But  then  what?     There  is  somethin'  else?" 

"Yes,  there  is,  Miss  Doane.  I  guess — I — I 
am  old-fashioned,  but  I  want  a  home-wife — a 
woman  who'll  love  babies,  and  have  them  and  not 
feel  that  they  are  an  impediment  to  her  career. 
I — I'm — a  little  dippy  on  children — I  guess — " 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION      309 

He  laughed  a  little  shamefacedly.  "I  want 
babies  in  my  home — babies  that'll  climb  around 
me  when  I  come  from  work — boys  and  girls  that 
I  can  love  and  do  for  and  see  grow  up  into  men 
and  women,  that'll  make  me  feel  that  I  have 
really  done  something  for  the  world — and — and 
the  way  Daphne's  been  brought  up — well,  her  set 
don't  believe  in  babies — and — rather  think  moth 
erhood  is  degrading — and— 

They  had  came  to  a  corner  of  the  veranda  over 
looking  the  part  of  the  lawn  where  a  merry  group 
of  little  children  were  playing  ring-a-round-a- 
rosy,  and  a  tall,  laughing  girl  was  standing  in  the 
middle*  of  the  ring,  her  face  flushed,  her  eyes 
sparkling,  as  the  clear  young  voice  sang  the  sim 
ple  play  song.  The  doctor's  face  softened  and 
he  forgot  what  he  was  saying.  They  stood  there 
a  while,  watching  the  happy  group.  Then,  the 
children  becoming  tired  of  the  game,  Daphne  sat 
down  in  a  rocking-chair  under  a  tree,  and  they 
grouped  themselves  around  her  feet.  She  took 
one  of  the  tiniest  into  her  lap  and,  cuddling  it 
against  her  breast,  began  to  rock  slowly  back 
ward  and  forward.  The  words  of  the  old  lullaby 
came  softly: 

"Rock-a-bye,  baby, 
On  the  tree-top, 


310      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

When  the  wind  blows 
The  cradle  will  rock — " 

Drusilla  looked  up  at  Dr.  Eaton  and  her  face 
broke  into  tiny  little  love  wrinkles  as  she  saw 
the  look  on  his  face.  She  put  her  faded  old 
hands  on  his  shoulders  and  looked  into  his  eyes 
for  a  long  moment ;  then  she  said  softly : 

"Go  on,  my  boy;  and  God  bless  you!" 

And  the  doctor  went. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AT  three  o'clock  on  July  16th,  there  met  in 
the  Doane  library  Mr.   Carrington,  Mr. 
Raydon — the  multi-millionaire  and  great  friend 
of  Drusilla's — Mr.   Thornton,  Dr.  Eaton,  and 
half  a  dozen  of  the  residents  of  Brookvale. 

"Gentlemen,"  Drusilla  began  when  the  men 
were  seated,  "I  suppose  you  wonder  why  you  are 
all  here.  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you,  because  you  are 
all  my  neighbors  and  I  have  heard  that  you  are 
worryin'  about  what  I  am  goin'  to  do.  We've 
all  got  a  right  to  expect  happiness  in  Heaven,  but 
I  believe  we  git  what  we  give,  and  I  want  to  give 
as  much  happiness  here  as  I  kin,  so's  I'll  be  sure 
to  have  somethin'  to  my  account  on  the  other 
side.  I  been  lookin'  around  fer  two  years,  tryin' 
to  find  a  way  to  leave  my  million  dollars  so's  to 
give  as  much  happiness  and  joy  to  them  that 
hasn't  their  share,  or  so's  to  benefit  the  most  peo 
ple  in  the  most  lastin'  way,  and  I  haven't  found  it 
yet.  But  I  have  found  a  way  to  invest  my  in 
come,  and  a  little  of  the  money  that's  come  in 
through  the  good  business  head  and  investments 
of  Mr.  Thornton. 

311 


312      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

"I've  always  loved  babies,  and  I've  always 
wanted  to  be  a  mother ;  but  it  didn't  seem  to  fit  in 
with  God's  plans  fer  me.  Perhaps  He  knowed 
that  I'd  have  a  chance  to  mother  a  bigger  family 
than  I  could  raise  myself,  no  matter  how  hard  I 
tried,  and  he  sent  me  these  babies.  Now,  these 
are  my  plans  fer  them.  I  ain't  goin'  to  start  an 
orphan  asylum,  nor  a  house  of  refuge,  nor  no 
kind  of  a  'home.'  I  ain't  goin'  to  take  more'n 
I  kin  git  along  comfortable  with  and  make  a  real 
home  fer,  not  an  institution.  I'm  goin'  to  edu 
cate  'em  and  make  'em  men  and  women  you'll 
be  proud  of,  but  I  ain't  goin'  to  try  to  make  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  'em,  whether  they're  born  fer 
that  or  not.  If  a  boy  has  a  head  that'll  make  him 
an  architect,  then  we'll  make  him  an  architect,  but 
if  he  was  jest  intended  fer  a  good  carpenter  then 
he'll  be  a  good  carpenter;  and  if  a  girl  has  it  in 
her  to  be  a  school-teacher,  she'll  have  a  chance  at 
it — if  not,  she  kin  always  make  a  good  livin'  as  a 
dressmaker  or  a  milliner.  They're  goin'  to  be 
made  into  good  middle-class  men  and  women; 
and  when  they  git  their  education,  I'll  have  'em 
sent  out  into  the  world  with  a  trained  brain  but 
empty  hands,  and  if  they've  got  the  right  stuff 
in  'em,  they  will  soon  fill  their  hands. 

"I  know  there's  been  lots  of  objections  to  the 
mothers  of  some  of  my  babies  comin'  to  the  neigh- 


DRUSILLA   WITH   A   MILLION      313 

borhood;  but  the  ones  that's  willin'  to  come  are 
the  ones  who's  wantin'  a  chance  to  become  self- 
supportin',  self-respectin'  women;  and  that's  / 
what  most  women  want — jest  a  chance.  They'll 
be  learnt  a  trade,  somethin'  that  they  have  lean- 
in's  to,  and  they'll  go  out  in  the  world  agin  able 
to  take  care  of  themselves,  without  help  from  no 
one. 

"I  got  a  lot  of  spare  rooms  in  the  house  that's 
doin'  no  good  to  no  one,  and  I'm  goin'  to  ask  some 
mothers  and  their  little  ones  to  spend  a  few  days 
with  me  in  the  hot  weather.  I've  been  to  see  'em, 
and  I'll  always  know  the  ones  I  ask.  They'll  be 
friends  of  mine,  jest  like  you  ask  your  friends  to 
visit  you  fer  a  few  days.  It  won't  be  a  mothers' 
home  nor  a  summer  home  nor  nothin'  charitable. 
I'm  jest  goin'  to  give  a  little  sunlight  to  some  of 
my  friends  in  the  hot  tenements,  whose  sack  of 
happiness  ain't  been  full  to  overflowin'. 

"Now,  that  disposes  of  my  income  and  the  new 
money  saved,  but  it  ain't  done  nothin'  with  the 
million  dollars.  I  been  visitin'  institutions  and 
charities,  I've  talked  with  every  one  who's  got  an 
idee  about  it.  Dr.  Eaton  wants  me  to  endow  a 
home  fer  children  and  mothers;  but  I  won't  do 
that,  as  I  can't  live  always  to  watch  it.  I  know 
that  I  could  make  Dr.  Eaton  manager  of  it,  and 
you  gentlemen  directors  and  my  idees  would  be 


3U      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

carried  out  as  long  as  you  was  alive ;  but  you  all 
got  to  die  sometime,  and  it'd  git  to  be  a  business 
thing,  payin'  a  lot  of  officials,  and  it'd  drift  into 
an  institution  like  lots  I've  seen,  with  no  heart  in 
it.  I've  thought  a  lot  about  them  foundations 
that  leaves  the  money  to  be  used  as  the  times  sees 
fit,  and  they  seem  kind  of  sensible,  because  times 
change  and  what  I'd  leave  it  fer  now  might  not 
be  needed  in  fifty  years.  New  things  would  come 
up  with  the  new  generations,  and  my  fund'd  be 
way  behind  the  times  and  not  fit  in.  I'm  a  little 
leanin'  towards  that  kind  of  leavin'  the  money, 
yet — yet — I  don't  know.  I'd  like  to  git  some 
thing  new,  something  different,  that'd  go  on  and 
on  in  the  right  way  doin'  good. 

"Mr.  Ray  don  kind  of  has  leanin's  towards  a 
people's  bank,  lending  money  to  poor  people  who 
ain't  got  nothin'  but  their  honesty  and  reputation 
— but  he's  goin'  to  figger  that  out  by  himself  and 
in  the  meantime  he's  waitin'  to  see  what  I  find  out, 
as  he's  got  more  money  than  he  kin  take  with  him. 
He  says  he's  only  interested  'cause  he  likes  me  and 
I  make  him  laugh,  but  way  down  deep  inside  of 
him  he's  got  the  biggest  kind  of  heart;  but  he 
don't  want  his  money  to  be  wrasted  when  he's 
gone,  no  more'n  I  do. 

"Gentlemen,  I  want  you  to  think  it  over,  ask 
every  one,  the  same's  I'm  doin',  git  some  new 


DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION       315 

idees  about  the  way  to  spend  a  million  dollars 
and  spend  it  right." 

They  rose  and  went  to  the  lawn,  where  the 
neighbors  with  whom  Drusilla  had  made  friends 
were  waiting  to  greet  their  hostess.  As  Drusilla 
passed  little  groups  of  mothers  playing  with  their 
children  under  the  trees,  the  men  \vith  her  saw 
tired  faces  light  up,  and  gratitude  in  faded  eyes 
of  weary  mothers,  while  tiny  children  clung  to 
her  dress  or  ran  shyly  forward  to  take  her  hands 
in  their  baby  fingers.  Love  shone  from  Dru- 

V 

silla's  face  and  was  reflected  in  the  eyes  of  all 
these  poor  and  helpless  who  followed  her  with  lov 
ing  glance  as  she  crossed  the  lawn. 

As  they  were  waiting  for  the  tea  to  be  served 
Mr.  Carrington  stood  upon  a  chair  and  called 
for  attention. 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  Mothers  and  Babies,'* 
he  said.  "To-day  is  a  great  day  for  us  all,  but 
more  for  the  people  of  Brookvale  than  for  the 
others.  Two  years  ago  Miss  Doane  came  to  us, 
and  found  a  great  many  of  us  hard,  self-centered, 
worldly.  Why" — and  he  laughed — "I  remem 
ber  I  was  chairman  of  a  committee  who  was  to 
wait  upon  her  and  persuade  her  that  she  must  not 
bring  babies  to  our  aristocratic  neighborhood.  I 
never  waited — but  that  is  another  story. 

"There  is  a  great  chemist,  and  he  dissolves  self- 


316      DRUSILLA    WITH    A    MILLION 

ishness  and  worldliness  with  a  little  invisible  pow 
der  called  love.  Miss  Doane  brought  stores  of 
that  powder  with  her,  and  scatters  it  over  her 
doughnuts  and  her  gingerbread  and  her  cookies 
that  she  sends  us,  and  she  does  it  up  in  little  pack 
ages  that  we  can't  see  and  slips  it  into  our  pockets 
when  we're  not  looking.  It  has  spread  like  a  fine 
mist  over  Brookvale.  And  I  am  speaking  for 
Brookvale,  and  I  want  to  say  that  we  are  glad 
to  have  her  with  us,  that  we  are  glad  to  see  her 
family  growing  up  around  her" — waving  his 
hand  toward  the  groups  of  children  on  the  lawn— 
"and  on  this,  her  seventy-second  birthday,  we 
want  you  all  to  give  three  cheers  for  Drusilla 
Doane,  OUR  Drusilla  Doane!" 

And  he  led  in  the  cheering  that  made  the  air 
resound. 

Drusilla  flushed  and  wiped  her  eyes,  and  in  an 
swer  to  the  calls  of  "Speech!  Speech!"  she  said: 

"I  ain't  never  made  a  speech  in  my  life,  as  I 
hold  with  St.  Paul  that  women  should  be  seen  and 
not  heard.  But — I  want  to  say  that  I  been 
happy  a  whole  heartful  since  I  been  with  you — 
and  I  want  to  share  it — and  I  want  you  to  feel 
that  in  passin'  it  on  to  others — I'm  passin'  on 
your  love  that  you  all  been  a-showin'  me.  So 
you'll  git  it  all  agin,  as  love  always  comes  back. 
But — but — I  can't  talk — I  can't  tell  you  how  I 


feel;  I  jest  want  in  my  small  way  to  make  the 
world  a  little  bit  glad  that  Elias  Doane  hunted 
up  a  charity  home  and  found  in  it  Drusilla" ;  and 
she  shyly  drew  back  into  the  crowd. 

When  she  saw  the  people  sitting  at  the  tables 
drinking  their  tea,  or  walking  over  the  beautiful 
lawns,  her  eyes  looked  for  John.  Finding  him, 
she  went  up  to  him. 

"John,  let's  go  up  on  the  porch  off  my  room. 
I'm  tired,  and  we  can  look  at  'em  all  from  there. 
I  want  to  be  alone  with  you." 

They  went  up  to  the  veranda  and  stood  over 
looking  the  happy  scene.  Mothers  were  sitting 
at  the  small  tables  happily  watching  their  larger 
children  playing  under  the  trees.  Babies  were 
rolling  on  the  grass,  their  baby  prattle  and  laugh 
ter  coming  faintly  to  the  ears  of  John  and  Dru 
silla.  The  soft  afternoon  sun  filtered  through 
the  trees  and  seemed  to  cover  them  with  a  golden 
glow. 

As  Drusilla  watched  them,  she  slipped  her  hand 
into  one  of  John's  and  leaned  forward,  looking 
up  at  him  with  a  soft  light  in  her  dear  old  eyes. 

"John,"  she  said,  "when  we  were  young,  we 
used  to  dream  that  we'd  grow  old  together  and 
see  our  children's  children  playin'  round  us." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.     Then: 

"John," — she  motioned  toward  the  lawn — 
"let's  play  our  dream's  come  true!" 


JAN 


Biro 


A     000  821  584     o 


